Plus One
by beckyharvey29
Summary: Seven years after getting kicked out of basic training, Ian Gallagher is doing his best to live a normal life. He has a fulfilling job, his bipolar disorder is under control, and he's raising his deceased brother's infant daughter. Everything gets turned upside down when Mandy breaks it to him that Mickey, who he hasn't seen in years, is getting married.


Ian Gallagher remembered the days when he would wake up before dawn to run for eight miles without a break.

Back then, he would usually start his day off by eating a hard-boiled egg or two. He'd whip up a drink made with fruit and other healthy shit they had in their sparse fridge that day. He'd plug his earbuds into his ears because he could never run without music, and he would run through the South Side dodging drug deals and juvenile delinquents loitering on sidewalks until his legs felt like they would give out.

These days, he woke up at the ass crack of dawn for entirely different reasons.

He groaned, stretched, and opened his bleary eyes to peer at the alarm clock next to his bed. 4:07. Two hours and twenty-three minutes before he was supposed to be up for work. That was his luck. He guessed he would have to suck it up and get through the day on three hours of sleep. That was nothing new, though. He was getting used to his new routine. He was used to functioning on barely any sleep. He knew it was far from healthy given his medical diagnosis, but he had no other choice.

He begrudgingly rolled out of his comfortable queen-sized bed and grabbed a pair of crumpled sweatpants from the floor. He nearly tripped over his feet as he tugged them on. He made his way through the dark, two-bedroom apartment, his niece's wails getting louder as he got closer to her bedroom, which used to be his workout room but things had changed.

Everything had changed.

"Jesus. I'm coming. No need to wake the entire building," he grumbled, knowing the last thing he needed was another call from his landlord about a noise complaint. A certain elder neighbor of his didn't take too kindly to a homosexual raising a child on his own, and the man took it upon himself to call the landlord anytime the baby cried too loud, or when Ian made too much noise coming in from work at 1 AM.

As he entered his niece's room, he stubbed his big toe on the doorframe, topping off his already shitty morning. "Son of a damn bi—!" He clamped his mouth shut, not allowing the curse word to slip out. Even though his niece, Mia, was barely seven months old and had no clue what he was saying, he still felt bad for cursing around her and promised himself (not for the first time) that he'd do better. Remembering to control his potty mouth was only one of many things he had to get used to.

"Shh," he hushed as he grabbed his crying niece under her tiny arms and carefully picked her up, making sure to support her little head in his large hand. He cradled her against his bare chest and sat down in the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

The chair had been a gift from Debbie. Most of the clothes and stuff in his niece's room had been given to him by Debbie. They were mostly Franny's hand-me-downs and things his sister had picked up at random yard sales. He was so fucking grateful for everything Debs did to help him. He didn't know what he'd do without her. She was his lifeline on most days; one of the few people in his life he could always count on.

"What's the matter?" he asked his niece as he pressed his lips against the side of her head, burying his nose in her soft, sandy-blonde curls. He knew she didn't need a bottle; he'd fed her a little over an hour before. He thought maybe she was in distress because she was teething. He'd noticed the small, white spot on her bottom gums the day before while he was feeding her mashed peas.

"Is your mouth hurting, huh?" His soothing voice seemed to calm Mia a little, to his relief. He stood up, making sure to keep her secure against his chest, and made his way to his small kitchen. "Uncle Ian to the rescue."

He turned on the light above the stove, not wanting the harsh overhead lights to hurt the little girl's eyes. He opened the fridge and retrieved the teething ring from inside the butter compartment. He'd read online not to freeze the teething ring, as it could harm the baby's gums and cause even more discomfort. He'd learned a lot of things during late-night sessions online. The rest he knew from helping raise his younger siblings while growing up. He was doing okay, he thought; all things considered.

"Here you go," he murmured as he bounced Mia a little and placed the teething ring in her aching mouth. The baby's crying subsided substantially after a minute, but she still sniffled and stared up at Uncle Ian with wide, wet eyes as she chewed on the rubber ring.

Ian pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, wishing there was more he could do to comfort her.

He averted his eyes to the front of the fridge and took in the picture of Lip and Mia's mom, Sam, that he kept there amid takeout menus, colorful magnets, and his sloppily written grocery list. Before he realized what was happening, his sleepy eyes prickled with tears.

"It's okay," he muttered into Mia's hair, not knowing if he was talking more to the baby or himself. "You're alright."

He blinked the tears back and forced himself to look away. He didn't even know why he kept the picture on the fridge; it made him feel like shit every time he looked at it.

He made his way back to Mia's room. After sitting in the rocking chair, he slowly rocked and hummed an old Coldplay song for a while until she was finally sleeping in his arms, the teething ring warm in her mouth. Carefully, he removed the ring, stood, and placed the baby soundly back into her pink, unicorn-themed crib. He watched her sleep for a bit, his hand softly smoothing over her head, before leaving her room and heading back to his.

He didn't fall back to sleep. He remained wide awake for the last hour before he had to be up for work, just staring at the lazily spinning ceiling fan, his mind filled with thoughts he didn't like having. Thoughts he could never shake.

Thoughts that no matter how hard he tried to live his life and be happy, something always felt missing.

* * *

As Ian was making his way down the bustling sidewalk a few days later, he felt a vibration against his leg. He fished his phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear, instantly grinning when he heard a familiar voice on the other end.

"Where the hell are you, asshole?"

"Hi, Mandy," he intoned.

"Yeah, hi. I specifically remember agreeing to meet you for lunch at twelve." There was a dramatic pause before she continued, "It's twelve-fourteen."

"Sorry," Ian said as he sidestepped a woman in front of him who had stopped to rifle through her purse out of nowhere. He sent the stranger a disgruntled look over his shoulder before continuing, "I'm runnin' a little late. Got stuck on a call. An old lady who lives by herself on Burnham couldn't remove her colostomy bag. I saved the day."

"How exciting."

Ian laughed. "I should be there in about two minutes, three tops."

"Yeah, you better be," Mandy quipped, "or I'm ordering the most expensive shit this place has to offer and leaving your ass with the check."

Ian smiled against his phone and looked both ways before crossing the busy street. "Don't worry. I'll be there."

Ian and Mandy had remained good friends over the years. She was pretty much his only real friend if he was being honest with himself. He hung out with a few guys from work over beers sometimes, but no one knew him like Mandy. Even though their lives had inevitably pulled them in two very different directions, they made it a point to catch up with each other at least once a month.

As promised, Ian arrived at Bella Bacino's two minutes later, only slightly disheveled and out of breath.

Mandy stood, tugging her strapless halter top up as she did so, and pulled him in for a tight hug.

"Sorry, I'm late," he murmured against her bare shoulder.

"You're always late."

"Busy life," Ian said before pulling away.

"You look good," Mandy said as she held out his arms and gave him a once-over. "Then again, what the fuck else is new? Tell me again how you ended up being a lame-ass EMT and not a GQ model with a full-page spread?"

"Oh, so saving lives is lame now?" he asked, his tone tinged with humor. "Some would say I'm a hero, Mandy."

"You're still unbelievably full of yourself, I see?" Mandy teased as she sat down. "Shit never changes with you, does it?"

Ian laughed as he also sat down, thankful that Mandy had snagged them a small table on the patio of the restaurant. It was a beautiful June day, they might as well enjoy it.

"You look good yourself," he said as he opened his menu. "I see bein' in love is treating you well?"

Mandy smiled as she glanced down at her menu. Her hair was blonde and styled nicely. She had designer sunglasses pushed up to the top of her head. Her halter dress probably cost more than one of Ian's paychecks.

"Being in love is awesome," she answered. "It makes the sex extra phenomenal, too."

Ian laughed and shook his head. "Oh, yeah? Besides the extra awesome hetero sex, how is Doug?"

If someone would have told him eight years ago that Mandy would be happily engaged to a plastic surgeon from the North Side named Doug, he would have laughed in their face.

There had been a time when Mandy had been stuck in a seemingly never-ending abusive relationship with a man named Kenyatta. Luckily, she'd gotten out of it relatively unscathed when the guy tried to move her to Minnesota. Currently, Mandy's life was about as vanilla as anyone's life could get, but he was happy for her. She deserved a perfect, mundane life after all the shit she'd been through.

"Doug is great," she answered as she sipped her mimosa. "He treats me like a fuckin' queen. I still don't know how I got so lucky."

"Hey, stop that. He's the lucky one, alright?" Ian said emphatically. He reached over and placed his hand over hers. "Don't ever forget that."

"Yeah, okay. Calm down, weirdo," she said with a roll of her eyes, but she didn't fool Ian. He could tell she was pleased with the comment.

The waiter came over to take their order then. Since they only had less than an hour left before Ian had to return to work, they decided to split a couple of appetizers.

When they were alone again, Mandy asked, "So, how's the baby doing?"

Ian grabbed a roll of bread from the basket in the middle of the table and tore it in half, hesitating for a moment.

If anyone knew how difficult the whole transition had been, it was Mandy. He didn't want any of his blood relatives to know how much he was struggling. Taking care of and raising his deceased brother's infant daughter was a lot more than he'd ever bargained for. That's not to say he regretted any fucking minute of it; he loved that little girl. Still, it was rough. He struggled more often than not. Some days he wanted to give up. Even Mandy didn't know half of what he went through or struggled with. She would never know, either, if he had anything to do about it.

"She's doin' good," he answered finally. "She's teething but other than that, she's good. I got her to eat squash the other day for the first time. Gave her the poops, though."

"Oh, yeah?" Mandy asked, sounding as unimpressed as she looked.

Through his mouthful of bread, he said, "Uh-huh. It was a bitch to clean up. It was like tar goin' all up and down her back."

"Do you need to say shit like that right before we eat?"

Ian laughed as he reached for his water. "Sorry."

Mandy regarded him, her eyes squinting against the afternoon sun. "So, how about you? Are you doin' okay?"

"Yeah," Ian said, rubbing a hand down his stubbly face. He only then realized that he'd forgotten to shave that morning. Ah well. He'd been told before that the whole stubbled-look worked for him. "I'm doing good." He could tell she knew he was lying, but he continued. "I cut my hours down at the station so I don't completely wear myself out. My neighbor across the hall helps out with babysitting when Debs can't. She's a retired nurse and loves having Mia around, says she keeps her young. She's a fuckin' godsend, actually."

"I still think it was selfish of him," Mandy muttered after a beat as she absentmindedly stirred her mimosa. "To leave you with his kid without even talking it over with you first. I mean, who does that?"

"Hey, it's not like he knew he was gonna die, alright?" Ian snapped. He then lowered his voice when a woman at the next table shot him a perturbed look. "He made a decision he didn't think would ever come to fruition."

"Still," Mandy said, shrugging, undeterred by his tone. "He makes that big of a decision enough to leave it in his will, he could have at least discussed it with you first. You had your own life, Ian. You were doing good. You were stable. You were finally happy—"

"I am happy," Ian retorted, letting his anger get the best of him. He knew Mandy cared and was only worried about him, but he wished she would shut her mouth, especially about Lip. Lip was the only thing he refused to discuss with Mandy. Well, one of the two people he refused to discuss with her. "I still have my own life. I'm still the same person I was before. I just have a kid to think about now. If anything, Mia helps keep me grounded."

Mandy nodded and bit her lower lip even though he knew there was more she wanted to say on the matter.

Ian suddenly felt an unwanted pang in his chest. The sight of Mandy biting her lip like that reminded him of someone he hadn't seen in years. It still amazed him how much they resembled each other.

"Have you been seein' anyone?" she asked, breaking the tense silence.

Ian sighed, knowing where she was getting at. He knew how she felt about the whole situation; she'd made it clear plenty of times over the past few months. She was always saying how Mia was causing him to keep his life on hold; which, apparently to her, meant his love life.

Sure, his romantic hookups had become scarce over the past few months, but that was fine with him. He had his hand (and a few select toys) if it came down to it. He was too busy with Mia and work to even care much about getting his dick wet. If it was meant to be, he'd meet someone, eventually. He had no room in his life for love. He was fine with that, even if Mandy wasn't.

"No, I'm not seein' anyone," he answered with a sigh, continuing when she opened her mouth to respond. "I hooked up with a guy from work last month, but nobody since then." He watched as she frowned. "I'm fine, okay? Don't worry about me or where I stick my dick. I'm good."

"But you—"

"Can we talk about something else?" Ian interjected. "Please? I didn't meet up for lunch to get a lecture on how shitty and unfulfilling my life is."

Just as Mandy opened her mouth to respond, their appetizers were placed in front of them.

Ian was thankful for the distraction and happily dug into the Caprese bruschetta, his stomach growling. He realized he hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, too busy in a rush getting Mia together and ready to drop off at Debbie's before work.

"There is something important I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yeah?" Ian asked through his mouthful of food, thankful for the change of topic. "What about?"

Mandy grabbed her own piece of bruschetta and brought it to her mouth before blurting the words that almost caused Ian to choke on his food.

"My brother's gettin' married."

"What?" Ian asked after he swallowed his food. He lowered his hand to the table and subconsciously curled it into a fist as he tried to process what she'd said. His heart raced in his chest. "Uh, you mean Iggy? Did he finally knock that girl he's been seein' up?"

"No," Mandy intoned, her eyes not leaving his. "I'm not talking about Iggy."

Ian swallowed hard, nodded, and dropped his eyes to the table. After a beat, he asked, "Mickey?"

"Yeah," Mandy said as she assessed his reaction. "He's gettin' married… to a man this time."

Ian sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand down his face. He suddenly didn't feel hungry. In fact, he felt a little sick to his stomach.

He remembered a time when Mickey didn't want to admit out loud that he was gay. A time when Mickey refused to kiss him. A time when he was so afraid of his father that he had married the woman he was forced to fuck at gunpoint just to make the evil prick happy.

That was a long time ago. A lifetime ago it felt like. So long ago that sometimes Ian wondered if any of it had ever happened. But he knew it had happened. He still had the emotional scars and occasional nightmares to remind him.

Seven years ago, Mickey had been his first love. Their relationship had been tumultuous and unpredictable, to say the least. Mickey had been forced to marry Svetlana, and Ian couldn't handle that, so he'd left. He'd been a coward, and he ran away. He left Mickey behind, alone, to pick up the pieces. He'd left him alone to deal with his psychotic father.

He came home two months later after being caught using Lip's identity only to find out that Svetlana had ultimately lost the baby. She and Mickey had annulled their marriage shortly after that without Terry's knowledge, and Mickey had skipped town to live with an aunt in Pittsburgh.

A part of him had been hoping back then that he'd come home and Mickey would be there waiting for him. He had been hoping that they'd be able to pick up where they left off like they had so many times before. Even though it hurt at the time, he hadn't been surprised to find Mickey wasn't there. He hadn't been surprised that they were officially over. The damage had been done.

It took a while, but he slowly began to get over the whole thing. Being bipolar and being off his meds for a while helped with that. It helped keep his mind off Mickey. He slept with a lot of guys and made a shitload of horrible mistakes before finally getting his ass to a hospital after a particularly rough night involving drugs and two random men. The fact that he'd woken up the next morning lying in a dirty alley with a pounding head, an aching ass, and no recollection of what had happened was enough to scare the shit out of him.

He eventually got his life in order. He worked long hours washing dishes at a local diner. He got his GED, took a few classes at Malcolm X, and worked his ass off to become an EMT. He figured if his army dream was shot to shit, he could be an EMT and make something of himself that way. He'd be able to help people; he'd be able to contribute to the community. He'd have a purpose in life again.

He'd gotten a crappy apartment after a few months of saving up, and his life had been good for a while. Not great, but good. He was finally stable and feeling positive about his future.

Until he'd gotten a phone call that changed his life forever.

The call that his brother, Lip, and his wife, Sam, had been in a horrible car accident. The call that his brother and wife had died on impact. It had been a drunk driver. The drunk driver had survived with barely a scratch. The only positive in the entire nightmarish situation was that Lip had dropped Mia off at Deb's for a few hours so he and Sam could have a date night. The baby hadn't been in the car, which was the only thing the family took solace in.

A few days later, Ian sat in a shitty, stuffy lawyer's office being told in no uncertain terms that Lip and Sam had left sole custody of their daughter to him. With no explanation of why.

For a little while, he had struggled with the whole thing. Why the fuck would Lip leave Mia to him, of all people? Out of all the Gallaghers, he knew he was the most unstable. Fiona was out because she'd fucked off and moved across the country with Liam two years before Lip's death. They were lucky to hear from her a few times a month. But why not Debs, who was already raising a child on her own?

Why not one of Sam's family members? He knew Sam had a small family, but there had to be someone more suitable who could raise Mia. Why him? He'd just gotten his life back on track. He'd just learned to take care of himself again. Why the hell would Lip think he was the one best suited to raise his child?

After stewing over it for a while, Ian concluded that it had to have something to do with the bond he and Mia had shared from the start. It may have even had something to do with how proud Lip was of him for getting his life together. Maybe it had something to do with Lip not wanting him to ever be alone; to have someone in his life always; to always have a purpose in his life. He wished more than anything that his big brother was still around so he could ask him exactly what the fuck he'd been thinking.

After battling with the idea for a bit—and even though Debbie had begrudgingly offered to take custody of the little girl even though his sister struggled to raise her own child sometimes—Ian had decided to accept full custody of Mia and raise the little girl as his own. He would make Lip proud, even though he was pissed at him. Pissed at Lip for leaving him with a kid. Pissed at him for leaving him with no choice. Pissed at him for dying.

"Ian?"

Ian was broken from his reverie and stared blankly at Mandy, forgetting for a moment what they had been talking about.

"You okay?" Mandy asked, her eyebrows furrowed in worry. She reached over and touched his hand. "Talk to me. You're starting to freak me out."

"I'm good," he answered as he stared down at his plate where his forgotten bite of appetizer was getting cold.

"You don't look good," she said. "You look paler than usual. Want me to have the waiter get you more water?"

"I'm gonna head out, alright?" he muttered, suddenly feeling the need to hightail it out of there and be alone with his thoughts.

"You're leaving?" Mandy asked with a frown as she watched him stand. "You just got here. You barely touched your food."

"I'll text you later," he said, bending down to place a kiss on top of her head. When he stepped away, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and fished out three twenties and laid them on the table. "Lunch is on me, okay?"

"Fuck you. I don't need your money, Ian," Mandy insisted. "Save it for Mia. Put it in her piggy bank or something. You need it more than I do."

Ian waved her off. "I gotta go."

"Is this about my brother getting married?" she blurted once his back was turned. After a beat, she said, "It's been seven years, Ian. I didn't think it would be a big deal to tell you."

Ian's shoulders slumped. He knew it had been seven years. He knew it shouldn't be a big deal. Still, a part of him felt sick at the thought of Mickey getting married. It didn't make any sense. He hadn't seen Mickey in years—barely even knew anything about his life—but it still hurt. He wasn't sure if it would ever completely stop hurting.

He guessed that's what happens when two people never really get closure. When two people are torn apart by outside forces. When two people are never given a real chance to be happy together.

He turned and gave his best friend a small, forced smile, already knowing she could see right through his bullshit but forging ahead with the lie, anyway.

"It's not a big deal," he said. "I just remembered I'm in charge of hosing down the rig today. I don't want the captain gettin' on my ass about it. He's already pissed I cut my hours down."

"Wait!" Mandy called out when he turned to walk away. "I needed to ask you something important."

"I'll call you later, okay?" he interjected as he walked backward. "I really have to go. I'm sorry."

Once he turned his back to Mandy, the fake smile he was getting so used to wearing slipped off his face.

* * *

The next night, Ian opened his door to find Mandy standing on the other side, a bottle of red wine in one hand, and a bag of Chinese takeout from his favorite place in the other.

"What're you doin' here?" he asked, a little disappointed to see her standing in his hallway. He had been planning on heading to bed early to catch up on some sleep. He then realized how lame that seemed. It was a Friday night, and he was excited to go to bed at nine o'clock. There had been a time, not too long ago, when 9 PM had been the start of his night, not the end of it.

"I thought I'd stop by and liven up your night a little," Mandy said with a tentative smile as she held up her offerings for him to inspect.

After a beat, the alluring scent of Kung Pao chicken won him over. He silently chastised himself for not eating a bigger dinner. He'd been an idiot to think that three chicken nuggets and a couple of bites of microwave mac and cheese (his typical cuisine those days) would hold him over. He stepped aside and allowed her to enter.

He knew why she was there. He knew exactly what she wanted to talk about. A part of him knew he would regret allowing her to come in.

"We have to be quiet, though," he said as she passed him. He shut and locked the door before adding, "I just put the baby to bed. It took a while to get her to fall asleep. She's teethin' like a bitch."

"Poor baby," Mandy said as she toed out of her shoes and made her way towards his tiny kitchen. She placed the takeout bag on the counter before heading to the cupboard next to the fridge to grab two wine glasses.

"I can only have one drink," Ian said as he sat down on a stool. "I have an early shift tomorrow morning, plus you know I can't drink on my meds or I get loopy as fuck."

"Jesus. I know. You act like I'm not your best fuckin' friend, asshole," Mandy retorted as she poured them each a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Once she was sitting on the stool next to him, she took a sip of her wine and bumped her shoulder against his. "So, how are you holdin' up after I dropped that bomb on you yesterday?"

"Cuttin' right to the chase, huh?" When Mandy smirked, he asked, "If I tell you I'm fine, will you stop asking?"

Mandy shifted her mouth to the side and scrunched up her nose, pretending to think it over. "Mm, probably not."

Ian sighed and harshly rubbed his eyes. "I'm fine. Really. I'm fine."

"So, knowin' my brother is getting married isn't affecting you at all?" she asked, her brow arched. "Not even a little bit?"

Ian shifted in his seat uncomfortably, not knowing how to answer that. He knew if he told her he was unaffected by the news, she'd call him a goddamn liar… and she'd be right.

"I'm not gonna lie and say it's not weird because it is," he started. "But we haven't been together, haven't even seen each other, in seven years, Mandy. I don't know how to feel. I guess a small part of me will always care about the guy. A part of me will always wonder what, you know, coulda been."

"If it means anything, he seems happy," Mandy said, tracing the rim of her glass with her index finger. "He has a decent job. He works some boring desk gig, but it's stable and pays well. He has his own house. Not just an apartment, but an actual two-bedroom house in a good neighborhood with a garage and everything. Turns out, rent out there isn't nearly as fuckin' ridiculous as rent is out here."

Ian sipped his wine as he listened. It was more information than he'd gotten over the years. The subject of Mickey was something he rarely brought up to Mandy, always figuring ignorance was bliss. He barely knew anything about the guy these days. He had preferred it that way before. Now, he wanted to know everything.

"He met his guy at a bar one night. I'm not really sure how long it's been going on, but apparently it's serious if they're getting hitched," Mandy continued before taking a sip of wine. She swished the liquid in her mouth a bit before swallowing and saying, "It's just weird. I visited him a few months ago for an entire week, and he didn't even mention the guy to me. Kinda pissed he didn't think to introduce me to him."

The fact that Mickey was marrying someone he hadn't even thought to mention to his sister irritated Ian a little. If the guy was so damn important to Mickey, why hadn't he told Mandy about him? The guy had to be pretty fucking special to tie Mickey Milkovich down, didn't he? What was Mickey hiding? Wasn't he sick of hiding?

He looked at her when she didn't continue. He sighed, knowing she was itching to ask him something. "Alright, ask me what you came here to ask me already."

"I'm that obvious, huh?"

"Come on, Mands." Ian held up his wine glass and raised an eyebrow. "Bringin' me over food and alcohol unprompted? It's obvious you're trying to butter me up."

Mandy laughed and tucked her hair behind her ears before turning on her stool to face him. "Okay, hear me out before you go all fuckin' ballistic on me."

Ian shot her an impatient look, urging her to continue.

"Okay, so… Mickey's fiancé's family is having, like, this week-long thing at their fancy cabin in upstate Pennsylvania next week," Mandy started. "A 'week-long celebration of love' they're calling it. Apparently, the guy's family is fuckin' lame and super-rich. They're gonna have the wedding ceremony there on a small beach and a reception with fuckin' hors d'oeuvres, and waiters, and shit."

"Next week?" Ian interjected. "Mickey's getting married next week?"

Mandy nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay," he said, rubbing a hand down his face, not knowing how to feel about any of it. The fact that Mickey was getting married at all was mind-boggling to him, let alone him getting married so soon. He was having trouble wrapping his mind around it all. "Okay," he said again before sighing. "Why are you tellin' me all this, Mandy?"

"Well, obviously Doug was supposed to be my plus one, but he can't go because he's swamped at work. Summer is a huge season for plastic surgery, and there's no way he can take an entire week off, especially on such short notice." Mandy paused for a beat before saying, "I really don't wanna go alone."

Ian waited, still trying to figure out where she was going with it.

"And," Mandy continued, sounding apprehensive. "I remember you telling me a couple of weeks ago that you have some vacation time owed to you. About a week's worth?"

Ian stared back at her before it dawned on him where she was getting at. "Wait, are you implying you want me to go as your plus one? To Mickey's wedding?"

Mandy answered by giving him the full-on puppy dog eyes.

"Come on, Mandy," he chastised. "Those eyes might work on Doug, but they don't work on me. You should know that by now."

"Please!" Mandy exclaimed. "Do this for me."

"No fuckin' way!"

"Ian!"

"Why can't Iggy be your plus one?" he exclaimed. "He's Mickey's brother! That would make more sense than me showin' up, don't you think?"

Mandy smirked. "I'm not taking Iggy."

"Why not?"

"Because Iggy is a fuckin' spaz, and I haven't heard from him in three weeks."

"Mandy," he sighed, rubbing harshly at his eyes.

"Oh, come on! It could be fun!" she exclaimed. "A week at a lake in a fancy cabin? All the free food and booze you could want?"

Ian narrowed his eyes at her. She was painting a pretty picture for something he knew would turn out to be a fucking disaster. "What makes you think I wanna spend an entire week watchin' Mickey and some guy make heart eyes at each other, huh?"

"Heart eyes?" Mandy clicked her tongue. "My brother doesn't do heart eyes. Come on! I've never met the guy before. I don't know shit about his family. Mickey will probably be too busy to even know I'm there." She paused for added effect. "I really, really don't wanna go alone."

Ian huffed and rubbed a hand over his head, trying to think of a nice way to let her down easy. There was no way in hell he was going to Mickey's wedding. No fucking way.

"Plus, it might be good for you and Mickey to see each other again," she tacked on. "To maybe even be friends again? You're both older now, you're both more mature. Well, you are. My brother's still a turd." She paused to laugh but sighed when she got nothing back from him. "You can't stay away from each other forever."

Ian could think of a hundred other things he'd rather do than spend a week at a fancy cabin with Mickey and his new love. He'd rather gouge his eyes out with a rusty spoon than see Mickey in love with someone else. But he figured maybe Mandy was right. They were both adults. They were both over the past. Mostly. Everything that had happened between them had happened so long ago.

Above anything else he was feeling, he missed Mickey. Maybe they could be friends, eventually. He'd run away with his tail between his legs in the past. He could be the bigger person for once.

"What would I do with Mia?" he finally asked, trying to grasp on to any reason he could to get out of going. "I can't just leave her for a whole week."

"I'm sure Debbie wouldn't mind watching her?" Mandy suggested, bouncing in her seat a little, getting excited by the prospect of him agreeing to go. "Or Carl?" When Ian made a sour face at that suggestion, she laughed. "Okay, maybe not Carl, but I'm sure Debbie can do it. It's only for a week. It's not like you're forcing her to take sole custody of the kid or anything."

Ian shot her an unamused look.

"Sorry," she said, holding up her hands to placate him. "Low blow. I know."

Ian sighed and downed the rest of his wine, more ready for bed than ever. "I'm not promising you anything, but I'll see what I can do," he settled on, knowing she wouldn't let it go if he didn't at least agree to consider it. "Before we do anything, you need to clear it with Mickey first, got it?"

"Yeah. Got it. I'll clear it with Mickey first." She grinned and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before reaching for the takeout bag.

* * *

The next day after work, Ian stood on the porch of his childhood home and pinched the bridge of his nose as he hesitated. He couldn't believe he was going through with it. After tossing and turning for most of the night before, he realized he couldn't say no to Mandy. He wasn't even sure he wanted to say no. A part of him—a huge part of him—was dying to see Mickey again, even if it turned out to be a big mistake. Curiosity was getting the better of him.

Without bothering to knock, he let himself in and closed the door behind him.

"Hello?" he called out. He hadn't bothered calling his sister to let her know he was coming. He knew he didn't need to.

She lived in the Gallagher house by herself with Franny. Even though it made him uncomfortable knowing his sister and young niece were living in a big house alone in the middle of a bad neighborhood, he eventually realized, no matter how many times he lectured and nagged her, that Debbie was as stubborn as he was, and she refused to leave her family home.

"Debs?"

"I'm in the kitchen!" Debbie called out.

Ian headed for the kitchen, glancing around as he did so. The place was neat and tidy and smelled like flowers. She took good care of the place. It looked better than it ever did. He found his sister at the stove stirring something in a large pot. "Hey."

"Hey!" Debbie exclaimed, glancing at him over her shoulder. She looked sweaty and flushed, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked like a stressed-out mom. He still sometimes couldn't believe how grown she was. "What are you doin' here?"

"Just wanted to stop by, see how you're doing," Ian said as he peeked over her shoulder to see what she was cooking. He scrunched his nose when he realized it was cabbage soup.

"You shoulda called before comin' over," Debbie admonished. "I'm a mess. I've been cleaning all day, goin' through all of Franny's clothes. I'm puttin' a lot of her stuff in boxes to keep for Mia when she's older."

"Where is Franny?" Ian asked as he headed for the fridge to grab a drink. He was pleased to find that the fridge was stocked full. "She here?"

"She's out riding bikes with some friends."

"In this neighborhood?"

Debbie shot him a look telling him not to start. "So, how are things?" she asked, changing the subject. "Where's Mia?"

Ian took a sip of his pop before answering, "She's still with the sitter. I came here straight after work. I need to ask you for a favor."

Debbie turned away from the stove, reaching up to push sweaty hair away from her forehead. "What kind of favor?"

"I kinda need you to watch Mia for me."

"For the night?"

"More like… for a week."

"A whole week?"

Ian nodded. "Next week."

"Next week?" Debbie exclaimed. "I can't watch her next week. I'm workin' all double shifts at the diner, plus Franny has day camp so I'm soaking up every free moment I can get next week while she's gone. I can't."

Ian sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. A small part of him was relieved that he had a solid excuse not to attend Mickey's wedding. He was surprised that a bigger part of him was disappointed.

"I'm sorry," Debbie apologized. "What about your usual sitter? Can't she do it?"

"She's seventy years old," Ian said with a smirk. "No way she can handle a baby for an entire week by herself."

"You could always ask Carl? He's between jobs right now. I'm pretty sure he has nothing else going on."

"Ask Carl to watch Mia for an entire week?" Ian asked. "Carl who has a parade of women in and out of his apartment every other night? Carl with the pothead roommate? That Carl?"

Debbie shrugged.

"No, thanks."

"Why do you need a sitter for a whole week, anyway?" Debbie asked. "What's goin' on?"

There it was, the dreaded question. "I'm, uh, goin' to a friend's wedding."

"A friend? Is it anyone I know?"

"Not really," Ian lied. He then sighed when his sister continued regarding him. He knew there was no use in lying to her. "It's Mickey. Mickey's gettin' married."

"Mickey Milkovich is getting married?" Debbie repeated. "Your Mickey?"

"He's not my Mickey."

"He was."

"Hasn't been for a long time, Debs."

"You're really goin' to his wedding?"

"Uh-huh."

"I didn't even know the two of you still talked."

Ian reached up to scratch his temple. "We, uh, we don't, actually. I haven't talked to him in years. Mandy wants me to go as her plus one."

"Does he know you're coming?"

"He better know," Ian said. "Mandy promised me she'd tell him."

"You think it's a good idea you showing up at his wedding out of nowhere?"

"What's with the third degree, huh?"

"I just don't want you to do something that's gonna, like, trigger something or whatever."

"Jesus," Ian muttered, stepping around his sister to head for the table. He plopped down in a chair and ran a hand down his face. "Not everything is triggering, Debs."

"Seein' an old love for the first time in years won't be easy," Debbie pointed out. "And it's not just any old love. It's Mickey. Wasn't he, like, the love of your life?"

Ian said nothing to confirm or deny that.

"Ian—"

"I'll be fine," Ian assured her. "I'm mostly goin' for closure. That's it. There won't be any breakdowns or spiraling on my part, okay? I promise."

Debbie nodded even though she still looked unsure. "So, are you still gonna go even though you don't have a sitter for Mia?"

Ian shrugged. "I don't know. Probably. I think I have to go. I think it'll be good for us in the end, to get some shit off our chests, maybe even be friends one day?"

Debbie nodded thoughtfully before grinning. "Wish I could be there to see the look on Mickey's face when he sees you with a kid for the first time."

Ian smiled a little and watched as Debbie went back to her cabbage soup.

As he sat there lost in his thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder what Mickey would think about him raising a kid on his own. He wondered if Mickey would be proud of him.

He wondered if Mickey would care at all.

* * *

When Ian thought of a cabin, he pictured something small and rustic nestled in the middle of the woods, with maybe two or three rooms total, and an old-time wood-burning fireplace tucked in a corner. What he was looking at wasn't a fucking cabin. It was more like a mansion made of glass and expensive wood.

He and Mandy exited the car, eager to stretch out their aching limbs after the long six-hour drive. In the paved, circular driveway, Mandy's Honda Accord stuck out like a sore thumb among the BMWs, Audis, and Mercedes-Benz.

After taking in the sight of their home for the next week, Ian removed Mia from her car seat and carefully strapped her into the baby carrier he wore on his chest. Next to the gaudy watch he still wore on his wrist, the baby carrier was his most worn accessory.

Mia babbled happily as she chewed on her favorite stuffed animal.

"Who the fuck is Mickey marrying?" Ian asked as he glanced around again, still in awe by what he was seeing.

The cabin was two stories high with a huge wrap-around porch on both stories. The land surrounding the cabin was perfectly manicured and landscaped with various types of colorful shrubs and flowers. The large, sparkling lake surrounded the cabin on two sides, complete with a clean, private, white sand beach and a long dock. A beautiful, mahogany gazebo was set up near the water, presumably for the wedding ceremony.

"Apparently, the guy's family is loaded."

"Clearly," Ian intoned, regretting the decision to come more and more by the second. He had a feeling by the end of the week he would end up feeling smaller than he did at that moment.

"Come on," Mandy said, grabbing his hand. "Let's go check this place out."

Ian pressed a kiss against Mia's head and allowed Mandy to lead him up to the cabin, wondering not for the first time what the hell he was doing there. He hadn't spoken to Mickey in over seven years. What the hell was he doing showing up at his wedding? He knew it was a bad fucking idea and nothing good would come of it.

Still, he followed Mandy up the pathway.

"I tried callin' Mickey's cell to let him know we're here, but he's not answering," Mandy explained as they made their way onto the porch. Faint music and the sounds of jovial laughter could be heard from inside. "Hopefully we spot him right away so we don't have to deal with Mason's family too much on our own."

"Mason," Ian murmured, hearing the guy's name for the first time. He decided he hated the name. Mickey and Mason? Their names didn't even sound right together. He vaguely wondered if anything wedding-related would be cheesily monogrammed with the initials M&M. He hoped Mickey hadn't changed that much to agree to something as lame as that.

Mandy knocked on the impressive door, unaware of her best friend's inner dialogue and turmoil.

"Are you sure he's okay with me showin' up here like this?" he asked for about the tenth time that day. "You sure he knows I'm coming?"

"Yeah, he knows," Mandy sighed. "Will you relax?"

"What did he say when you told him I was coming?" he asked. "You never told me exactly what he said."

"He didn't say anything," she said, shrugging and avoiding his eyes.

"Mickey had nothing to say to that? We haven't seen each other in years, and he had nothing to say about me showing up outta nowhere? I find that really hard to believe," he said, sending her a look that told her he knew she was full of shit. "What aren't you telling me, Mandy?"

Mandy opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted when the door opened.

A beautiful, middle-aged woman with perfectly coiffed hair greeted them with a wide smile. "Oh, you must be Mandy! My goodness! You look just like our Mickey!"

"Yeah… that's me."

"I'm Brenda, Mason's mom! It's so nice to finally meet you!"

Ian looked over at Mandy as she shook the woman's hand, taking in her forced smile. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was nervous as fuck. At least he wasn't alone in that. He glanced back at the woman to find her watching him.

"This must be Doug!" Brenda exclaimed. "My, you're a looker!"

"Uh, no… not Doug. I'm Ian," he said awkwardly as he shook the woman's hand. "I'm… a close friend of the family."

"Ian and Mickey used to be super close. He was, um, actually the one person who always had my brother's back," Mandy said, which earned her a dirty look from Ian. The euphemism hadn't been lost on him.

"Oh, well! Welcome, Ian! The more friends of Mickey's, the merrier!" Brenda said, her smile too wide to be considered completely genuine. "And who is this little sweetheart?" she cooed, bending forward a little to focus her attention on a wide-eyed Mia.

Instinctively, Ian placed a protective hand on Mia's back and angled her away from the strange woman a bit so she couldn't touch her too much.

Brenda straightened up and appeared a little affronted by that, but she said nothing.

"This is my niece Mia." It had been on the tip of his tongue to call Mia his daughter, but he'd stopped himself at the last second. Even though Mia was technically his, it still felt weird calling her his daughter. She would always be Lip's daughter.

"Oh, well, she's gorgeous!" Brenda exclaimed with the smile back on her face. "She's such a beauty!"

"Thank you." Ian glanced at Mandy when she laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a comforting squeeze. He knew she could tell he was anxious about it all.

"Some of our guests have already arrived," Brenda said, stepping aside to allow them to enter. "Come in! I'll get you two a drink, and you can go mingle! Make yourselves at home! You can leave your bags in the foyer for now. We'll deal with those later."

Ian and Mandy shared an amused look as they followed the overly enthusiastic woman into the impressive cabin.

Ian couldn't help but wonder what Mickey thought of his soon-to-be mother-in-law. He couldn't see Mickey getting along with the over-the-top personality. The lady had to be on something; an upper of some sort if he had to guess.

He then reminded himself for the hundredth time that he didn't know Mickey anymore, and he needed to stop assuming things about him. At one point in his life, he probably had known Mickey better than almost anyone, but that was a long time ago. He had to prepare himself for the fact that Mickey was probably a different person now. He obviously wasn't the same angry, scared South Side boy Ian had known.

Once they were inside, he took in the place. The vaulted ceiling had to be at least 15 feet high with wood beams completing the impressiveness. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined an entire wall, allowing an amazing view of a sparkling Lake Erie. The floor plan was open-concept, complete with gorgeous hardwood floors and a kitchen bigger than Ian's entire South Side apartment. Complete with quartz countertops, expensive-looking white shaker cabinets, and top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances, Ian felt as if he'd stepped inside an episode of 'My Lottery Dream Home'.

"Just think," Mandy leaned in to whisper, "this is only their vacation home."

Ian snorted as he continued to take everything in. A grand spiral staircase led up to the upstairs. He could only imagine what the bedrooms looked like. He had a feeling his guest room would be nicer than any hotel room he'd ever stayed in.

Brenda turned to Ian and Mandy and clapped her hands together. "What can I get for you to drink? We have a variety of craft beer, wine, coffee, water…"

"I'll take some wine," Mandy said. "Red, if you have it."

"Is Château Lafite okay?"

"Uh, sure," Mandy said, pretending to know what that was.

"What can I get for you, handsome?" Brenda asked Ian.

"I'll take a water," he answered. Being on his meds was reason enough not to drink, but he'd already decided since he had Mia with him that he was going to skip drinking altogether for the week.

Brenda beamed. "Great!" She glanced around the place where small clusters of people were gathered around talking, drinking, and laughing. "I don't see my son or Mickey anywhere, but I'm sure they're around here somewhere. They probably snuck off for some alone time. Those two, they can't keep their hands off each other. It's so adorable."

As Brenda turned to fetch their drinks, the small smile on Ian's face faded. The thought of Mickey being unable to keep his hands off someone—of him sneaking off to fool around with someone while so many people were around—didn't sit too well with him. It was such a foreign concept that, for a moment, he wondered if she was talking about the same Mickey.

Once again, he told himself to stop assuming shit about a person he didn't know anymore.

He was suddenly regretting not requesting alcohol. He had a feeling he was going to need it to get through the night. Maybe even the whole week.

"All the women here look like fuckin' Stepford Wives," Mandy whispered from beside him, pulling him from his reverie. "The men all look like they have sticks up their asses. Not in a fun way."

Ian forced a laugh for her benefit and playfully bumped his shoulder against hers. "Be nice."

"I can't believe my brother is gonna be married into this shitshow," Mandy said as she continued to survey the other guests, who all looked as if they'd collectively stepped out of a J. Crew summer catalog. The obvious Botox injections (on both the men and the women) were also ridiculous. "This Mason guy must have an impressive dick."

"Jesus," Ian muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose, not wanting to think about Mickey's fiancé's dick. Like, at all.

"That, or Mick's in it for the money, which wouldn't surprise me," Mandy continued. "I can't see him willingly wanting to live this Pleasantville lifestyle, no matter how into the guy he is. I wouldn't be surprised if he's just tryin' to case the place."

Ian opened his mouth to say something in his ex's defense but froze when his eyes took in something across the room.

For the first time in a little over seven years, he laid eyes on Mickey Milkovich.

Mickey and a man Ian didn't recognize had entered the cabin through a set of sliding glass doors leading to the outside deck. They were both grinning and laughing over some private joke, both unaware of Ian and Mandy's arrival.

Ian didn't pay much attention to the man at Mickey's side. He couldn't take his eyes off his ex even if he wanted to. The years had been good to him. He looked healthy and happy. He looked a little older, but not by much. His hair was cut in a slick undercut. He wore clean, well-fitted jeans and a blue polo shirt that brought out his eyes even from that distance.

He looked fucking incredible. Even better than Ian remembered.

"There's my asshole brother," Mandy pointed out as if he hadn't already spotted him the second he walked in through those doors. As if his entire world hadn't been tipped slightly off its axis at the mere sight of him.

Ian continued watching him, his throat suddenly feeling tight. He watched as Mickey laughed at something the man he was standing with said. His smile still lit up his whole face. His smile still caused adorable eye crinkles.

As if he wasn't having enough trouble trying to process seeing him again after seven years, he completely froze up, and his heart hammered in his chest when Mickey lifted his head and locked eyes with him.

The grin immediately slipped off Mickey's face.

Ian had never seen someone deflate so quickly.

"Mandy?" he asked, his eyes still glued on Mickey's across the crowded space. "Why does your brother look as if he had no fuckin' clue I was gonna be here?"

After a beat, Mandy replied sheepishly, "Because he had no clue you were going to be here."

Ian finally tore his eyes away from Mickey's and glared at his best friend. "What the fuck, Mandy? The hell do you mean he didn't know I was gonna be here? Why didn't you tell him I was coming? You promised me you'd talk to him!"

Mandy at least had the decency to look remorseful about it all. "I'm sorry! I knew if I told him you were coming he'd most likely talk me out of bringing you."

"Oh! So you knew he wouldn't want me here? That makes it better?" Ian exclaimed. He placed a hand on Mia's back to calm her, not wanting their raised voices to startle her. "So, you just decided to force us both into this situation? What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Keep your voice down," Mandy hissed as she glanced around. She then sighed and looked back at him, her expression softening. "I knew if I told you he didn't know you were coming that you wouldn't have come."

"Yeah, you're right," he snapped. "I wouldn't have come. This is fuckin' embarrassing, Mandy! Now I'm the weirdo fuckin' ex who showed up at his wedding uninvited!"

"That's not entirely true. I invited you to come."

Ian gave her the dirtiest look he could muster.

"Look, I want you guys to get over all the bullshit from the past," Mandy said. She reached out and smoothed a hand over Mia's curls before continuing, "You're adults, and I love you both. It's time for the two of you to grow some balls and get over your shit."

"You've had seven years to get us to talk if it was so damn important to you. You pick now to force us together? At his goddamn wedding, of all places?" Ian exclaimed. "Jesus, Mandy."

"He's just surprised, that's all," she said. "Trust me, he'll get over it. He'll be happy to see you. I know my brother. He'll act all pissy about it at first, but deep down I know he'll be glad you came."

Ian looked back at Mickey to see him scowling and whispering in what appeared to be a harsh tone to the man he assumed was Mason. His jaw clenched as he watched them, hating that Mickey obviously resented the fact he was there. He sighed before muttering, "Doubt it."

"Come on," Mandy said, grabbing his hand. "Let's go rip off the band-aid. We're here, and he already saw you. We might as well go ahead and get the awkwardness over with."

"Band-aid," Ian muttered with a scoff as he reluctantly followed her. "More like a full fuckin' body cast."

"Come on," Mandy said with a roll of her eyes. "Quit bein' dramatic."

"I hate you. You know that, don't you?" he retorted, feeling as if he had every right to be dramatic in the situation.

"You love me."

"Not right now, I don't."

"You'll get over it."

Ian shot her a baleful look as they made their way towards the happy couple.

"Hey," Mandy said once they reached Mickey and Mason. "I tried calling you, asshole," she said to her brother. "You weren't pickin' up. Why even have a cell phone if you never answer it?"

"Bite me," Mickey spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ah, you must be Mandy," Mason jumped in before things could escalate. He grinned and pulled Mandy in for a hug. "It's nice to meet you, finally."

"You too," Mandy said as she hugged him back.

Ian took a chance and glanced in Mickey's direction, not surprised when he didn't look back.

Mason pulled away from Mandy with a smile. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh, yeah?" Mandy asked, sending her brother a look. "I can only imagine the shit you've heard."

Mason laughed but said nothing else.

"I shouldn't have to meet my future brother-in-law a week before the wedding."

"You really don't wanna fuckin' go there with me right now," Mickey snapped.

Ian stood awkwardly off to the side, feeling more out of place than ever, knowing he was the reason for the animosity between the siblings.

Mandy sighed and turned to Mason. "This is my best friend Ian. My fiancé couldn't make it, so he's my plus one for the week. I hope that's okay with you?"

Ian didn't miss the dirty looks Mandy and Mickey gave each other.

"Ian," Mason said before sneaking a questioning look back at Mickey. "Is this the Ian?"

Ian watched with a small frown as Mickey locked eyes with Mason and shook his head minutely. He wondered what the hell that was about. What exactly did Mason know about him? He could only imagine the bad shit Mickey probably had to say about him and their past.

"Nice to meet you, Ian," Mason said once he turned his attention back to him. He offered his hand for Ian to shake.

"Yeah, you too," Ian said as he reluctantly shook his hand.

"Of course, you're more than welcome to be here," Mason assured him. "Any friend of Mickey's family is a friend of mine."

Ian nodded and forced a small smile. When Mason turned his attention back to Mandy, he glanced over to find Mickey looking back at him for the first time.

Staring into Mickey's eyes from five feet away was such a fucking surreal feeling that Ian briefly wondered if any of it was real or not. He watched with a racing pulse as Mickey's eyes dropped to his chest to take in the sight of Mia who was happily babbling, unaware of the surrounding tension. He swallowed hard when Mickey looked into his eyes again before quickly looking away.

"Who's the little lady?" Mason asked.

"This is my niece, Mia," Ian answered, watching as Mason grabbed her little hand and shook it.

A part of him—the unreasonable, stubborn part—wanted to swat his hand away, but he refrained. Even though Mason seemed like a nice guy so far, Ian didn't like him. He then chastised himself, promising to at least try to give Mason a chance. If Mickey loved him, he couldn't be bad, right?

After an awkward silence, Mickey leaned in towards Mason. "Hey, can you give us a minute? I need to talk to my douchebag sister about something important."

"Sure, yeah. There's someone I need to go say hi to, anyway," Mason said, giving Ian and Mandy another kind smile before excusing himself and heading over to a group of people gathered by the kitchen.

"The fuck, Mandy?" Mickey exclaimed as soon as they were alone. "The hell are you tryin' to pull? You couldn't give me a fuckin' warning before bringin' him here?"

Ian sighed, hating the fact that Mickey was talking about him as if he wasn't standing right there. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was immediately cut off.

"I tried callin' your dumb ass, you didn't pick up."

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey snapped. "When did you try callin'? Besides five fuckin' minutes ago?"

Mandy shrugged.

Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose. "How long have you known he was comin'?"

"I dunno? A few days?"

"A few days? Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Mickey exclaimed. His raised voice startled Mia, causing her to burst into tears.

"Shh, it's okay," Ian murmured as he turned the baby away from the dispute and kissed her head. "It's alright. You're okay."

"Fuck, you asshole!" Mandy snapped, hitting Mickey hard on the arm with the back of her hand. "Real nice makin' the baby cry!"

Mickey sighed and rubbed his mouth before waving his hand towards Mia. "Shit. Is she alright? I didn't mean to make the kid cry."

"Yeah, she's just a little cranky," Ian said as he bounced his niece a little to calm her down, which seemed to do the trick. "She's been teething and had a long car ride." He looked down at Mia and, with a soothing tone, said, "Huh? You're just a little sleepy from the long drive. That's all. You're okay."

He missed the way Mickey was watching him interact with the baby, his expression softening.

"Here, I'll take her," Mandy said, turning to Ian with grabby hands. "I think you two need to talk, anyway."

"Yeah, walk the fuck away," Mickey snapped as he watched Ian unlatch Mia from the baby carrier and hand her off to Mandy. "You're not gettin' off the hook that easily. We're talkin' about this later."

Mandy sneered at him before walking away.

Once they were alone, Ian looked at his ex, preparing for the worst. It hurt when Mickey continued looking anywhere but at him. He would almost rather Mickey punch him in the face than completely ignore him. At least then he'd know how he was feeling.

"So… hi," he finally said when the silence became too awkward.

"Yeah," Mickey snapped, scratching the tip of his nose with his thumbnail. "Hi."

Ian sighed, deciding to at least try to squash the awkwardness. He was there, better make the best of the shitty situation. "Look, I'm sorry for showin' up here like this. I thought you knew I was gonna be—"

"Yeah, about that," Mickey interjected, still not looking at him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"We haven't seen each other in seven years," Ian said after a beat. He watched as Mickey's brows shot up his forehead in aggravation. At least that hadn't changed. "Is that really how you wanna start this conversation?"

"I never wanted to have this conversation with your ass, to begin with," Mickey snapped, "but my bitch of a sister decided I didn't get a fuckin' choice in the matter."

Ian pursed his lips and nodded a little. "I guess I deserve that."

Mickey scrubbed roughly at his eyes and sighed, looking done with the conversation. "Just answer the fuckin' question, Gallagher. What are you doin' here?"

"Don't worry," Ian said, swallowing thickly. "I'm not here to, like, 'Julia Roberts' your wedding or anything like that."

Absolute bewilderment crossed Mickey's face as he mulled over Ian's words. He finally looked Ian in the eye for the first time since they'd been alone. He then pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing and asking, "The fuck are you talkin' about?"

"You know? 'My Best Friend's Wedding'?" Ian explained. When Mickey shook his head and raised his brows even higher, he continued, "Julia Roberts' character finds out her best friend is marrying Cameron Diaz and decides she wants to marry him instead and tries to sabotage their wedding?" He nodded his head slowly as if Mickey not knowing the movie was absurd. "You know? Big 90s rom-com?"

Mickey lowered his hand from his face as he took in everything Ian said. He finally barked out a laugh and shook his head. "The fuck? You're really fuckin' gay, you know that?"

"Yeah," Ian said with a soft smile. "I do know that. That's, uh, that's one of the few things that hasn't changed about me."

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey asked, scratching the side of his mouth with his thumbnail. "What else has changed about you?"

Ian shrugged. "I grew up a lot."

"Yeah?" Mickey asked. "How?"

"I don't think we have time to get into all that right now," Ian answered with a small smile. "We have a whole week to catch up, though." He paused before finishing, "If you don't mind me being here. I'll leave if you want me to. I don't wanna make shit awkward for you."

Mickey rubbed the corner of his mouth with his knuckle and sighed. He looked uncomfortable with the whole situation, but at least he didn't look pissed off anymore. "Whatever. You're here. There's fuck all I can do about that now. It's just fuckin' weird seein' your ass again after seven years, that's all."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." He lifted his eyes to meet Mickey's.

Their gaze held for a few beats before Mickey looked away.

A long, awkward silence ensued. Ian hated it, so he blurted, "So, I have a kid now."

"Yeah, I saw that. Sorry again for makin' her cry or whatever," Mickey said with a wave of his hand. Once Ian nodded to let him know it was okay, he asked, "So, is she yours?" He paused before saying, "You knock someone up? Decide to swing the other way for a change?"

Ian smiled a little and dropped his gaze to the floor. "No, I'm still strictly into cock. I didn't knock anyone up. She's my niece. She's, um… she's Lip's, actually."

Mickey nodded and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. After an awkward silence, he said, "Yeah, uh, I heard about Lip, man. Sorry. Mandy told me back when it happened." He then lifted his eyes to meet Ian's. "You doin' alright?"

Ian opened his mouth to respond but was cut off.

"Shit, that's a really stupid fuckin' question," Mickey said, pinching his nose. "Of course you're not alright."

Ian blinked his stinging eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him. The day had already been weird enough as it was. Mickey didn't need him crying about his dead brother in the middle of his engagement party.

"I'm doin' okay, you know," he answered, forcing another small smile. "I'm hangin' in there. Doin' the best I can."

Mickey snorted. "All generic fuckin' answers."

"I don't know what else to say," Ian said, reaching up and quickly wiping at the corner of his eye. "I feel like if I say anything else I'll be admitting I can't handle my shit, and I can."

"You know you don't have to bullshit me, Gallagher," Mickey said. "It's been seven years, but that hasn't fuckin' changed."

Ian nodded and looked down at his shoes. He finally said the words he'd been keeping from everyone in his life, even Mandy.

"I don't know. I guess the truth is… I'm barely hangin' on most days. I'm workin' myself to death at my job, barely gettin' any sleep. My whole life revolves around a kid I wasn't ready for. I have no social life, no time for myself. I have medical problems I forget to manage half the time because I'm always so worried about everything else."

An awkward silence settled around them as both men stared down at their shoes.

Mickey was the first to break the tense silence. "So, sounds like you stopped bein' a stubborn shithead, huh? Finally thinkin' about someone other than yourself for a change?"

Ian looked up quickly, defensively, until he saw the small smile etched on Mickey's lips. He realized it was Mickey's way of easing the tension. He smiled back. "Yeah, guess you can say that." He shrugged. "I can't afford to be selfish anymore."

Mickey cleared his throat and nodded.

"I really am sorry about showin' up like this," Ian said to fill the silence. "I thought Mandy told you I was coming. She flat out told me you knew I would be here. I never woulda showed up if I knew—"

"Nah, it's cool," Mickey interjected, shrugging. "Just fuckin' caught me off guard seein' your pale freckly ass again, that's all. You, uh, you look good, Gallagher. You definitely grew up."

"You look good too," Ian said. "It's really good to see you, Mick."

"Yeah, you too."

"So," Ian started when the eye contact became overwhelming. "You're gettin' married, huh?"

Mickey once again averted his eyes. "Yeah, man," he said after hesitating. "I'm gettin' hitched. Must be pretty fuckin' hard to believe, huh?"

"I mean… as long as it's nothing like the last wedding, I think you'll be alright," Ian said, meaning for it to lighten the mood, but if anything it made shit awkward again.

"Yeah," Mickey muttered before glancing over his shoulder. "Look, I better go, uh, mingle or some shit. I'll talk to you later."

"Sounds good," Ian said. They locked eyes for another handful of seconds before Mickey turned to walk off. He stared after him, his heart still hammering in his chest.

Even after seven years, his heart didn't know how to react around Mickey.

* * *

A little while later, more people began to show up.

Mandy had told Ian that it was supposed to be a small affair with a few members of the family and some of Mason's close friends. He suddenly realized she'd probably only been lying to ease his anxiety over the whole situation. There had to be at least fifty people mingling around, and he had a feeling more would show up.

He stood safely in a corner next to a ficus plant with Mia once again strapped to his chest and watched as the party went on around him. Despite his initial reservations about bringing Mia with him, he was glad she was there with him. At least he had one person on his side.

Mandy had abandoned him in favor of having a conversation with a few of Mason's less-uptight cousins. He would be lying if he said the fact that Mandy was so hell-bent on getting to know Mason and his family didn't sting a little. He then reminded himself that he was being ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with her wanting to know her future in-laws. If anything, he was the outsider there.

He looked across the room and watched as Mickey and Mason chatted with a group of people Ian didn't know. Mickey was chuckling at something one of the strangers was saying. When Mason reached over and wrapped an arm around Mickey's waist, Ian quickly looked away before he could see anything else he wasn't prepared to see.

The smell of steaks and lobsters being cooked on the grill wafted in from outside and his stomach rumbled at the thought of food. The fact that the delicious food was almost ready was the only thing keeping him from seeking out his guest room and disappearing for the rest of the day.

"Well, aren't you a cutie?"

Ian looked to his right to find a petite blonde woman around his age standing beside him, her pink glossy lips quirked in a smile, and her pretty blue eyes sliding down his body to take him in. She apparently liked what she saw and wasn't afraid to let him know it.

"Your hair is gorgeous," the woman said as she reached up and carded her manicured fingers through his hair. "The color is beautiful."

"Uh, thank you?" he said, not knowing what else to say to that. He wasn't a stranger to women coming up to him and flirting with him while having a baby strapped to his chest, but he'd never encountered one so confident and handsy.

"It's a shame that someone who looks like you is standing here all alone," the woman said, still eyeing him up. "Would you like some company?"

Ian had to admit the woman had some balls, hitting on a guy standing in a corner with a baby. For all she knew, the mother was lingering around somewhere nearby.

Before he knew what was happening, Mickey and Mason were heading towards him. Mickey was a few steps behind Mason, looking as if he'd rather do literally anything else than be in Ian's presence again. Ian's heart sank at the thought.

"Down girl! Leave my guests alone. This isn't a singles mixer," Mason said, grinning. "Ian, this is my youngest sister. I doubt she introduced herself before digging in her claws."

Miranda rolled her eyes, looking perturbed about being interrupted. "Shut up, I was getting there!" After scowling at her brother, she turned back to Ian with a sweet smile. "I'm Miranda."

"Uh, nice to meet you," Ian said, shaking her dainty, outstretched hand. "I'm Ian."

"Pleasure is all mine," Miranda drawled as she held onto his hand longer than was necessary.

"Careful with this one, Ian," Mason said with a big smile. "She'll have you charmed by the end of the night, I'm sure."

"What can I say?" Miranda cooed, giving Ian another appreciative once-over. "When I see something I like, I have to have it."

Mickey snorted into his beer mug.

Ian threw his ex a curious glance, wondering what that snort had meant. He then looked at Miranda. "Uh, sorry, but I'm not lookin' for anything right now." He then motioned towards Mia, as if that was the only reason he wouldn't be hopping into bed with her.

Miranda shrugged and grinned. "That's okay. I'm always up for a challenge." With that, she turned and headed towards another group of people but not before smiling at Ian over her shoulder. Under her short sundress, she swayed her hips in a way she considered appealing.

If anything, Ian only liked the pattern of the dress.

"Your sister's barkin' up the wrong fuckin' tree," Mickey grumbled, still staring down into his cup. "Probably should tell her that."

"I'm sure Ian can let her down easy himself," Mason said, throwing an arm around Mickey's shoulders and jostling him a little. "He's a big boy."

Mickey hummed, his brows shooting up his forehead as he took another gulp of his drink.

Ian swallowed the thick lump in his throat and looked away. The simple sight of someone having their arm slung around Mickey's shoulders was enough to cause his jealousy to rear its ugly head for the second time in minutes. Not even an hour into the week and he was already letting past feelings get the best of him. Jesus, he was pathetic.

"Has anyone showed you and Mandy to your room yet?" Mason asked with his arm still draped over Mickey's shoulders.

"Yeah, about that…" Ian said, glancing around, grateful for an excuse to look away from the affectionate display. "Where is everyone sleeping? The guest-to-bedroom ratio doesn't quite add up." When he looked back towards the couple, he found Mickey watching him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Mickey dropped his eyes, cleared his throat, and shrugged his shoulders a little, causing Mason to remove his arm.

Mason seemed unfazed by the action as he answered, "Half the people here live close by, an hour or two away, so they'll only be here during the day. Others brought RVs and tents to set up in the yard. You and Mandy are family, so you'll be sharing one of our five guest rooms."

Ian nodded, content with that idea. "Sounds good."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Mason said, craning his neck to peer across the crowded living area. "My aunt who I haven't seen in a while just arrived. I'll catch up with you later." He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Mickey's temple. "Come over and say hi when you're done here, yeah?"

Mickey nodded and, with a look bordering on a sneer, he allowed Mason to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

Ian swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, pretending to be interested in something going on near the spiral staircase. He didn't expect to have to witness so much casual intimacy between the two, especially so soon after arriving. He wondered if he was going to be able to survive the week if he was easily getting jealous over a few simple kisses and touches.

"A lotta fuckin' people here," Mickey muttered once they were alone. "I told him I didn't want everyone and their mom here, but his family doesn't fuckin' listen. His parents are the ones who planned all this. If it were up to me, I woulda just had a fuckin' party at Sizzler or some shit."

Ian nodded. Instinctively, he placed a hand on a sleeping Mia's back, finding that it comforted him as much as it did her. "He, um, he seems like a good guy."

Mickey looked down into his beer and gnawed on his lower lip. "Yeah, he is."

Ian watched him as he contemplated his next question, wanting to keep the conversation going. He didn't want to know the finer details of his ex's new relationship but curiosity got the best of him. "How long have you two been together?"

Together. He didn't know if he would ever get used to Mickey being together with someone who wasn't him. Were he and Mickey ever really together, though? They'd never gotten the chance to define their relationship back then.

"Not long," Mickey said, reaching up to scratch the tip of his nose. He didn't elaborate on that.

"Not long?" Ian repeated, feeling himself getting irritated by Mickey's lack of details. "But long enough to know he's the one, right?"

Mickey continued scratching his nose, his gaze averted to the floor. "Yeah," he finally said. "I guess."

Ian ignored the unwanted pang in his chest and swallowed hard before asking, "Does he treat you good at least?"

Mickey lifted his eyes to meet Ian's, the uneasiness he felt over the entire conversation clear on his face. He hesitated a beat before saying, "Yeah. He does."

"Good," Ian said, forcing a small smile. "That's good."

Even though it hurt to hear, he took some solace in that, at least. Mickey deserved everything good in the world, especially after everything he'd gone through as a kid. He deserved to be fucking happy, even if it wasn't with him. He had to accept the fact that it was never going to be with him.

He was a small part of Mickey's past; a blip on the radar. He was some guy Mickey used to work with and bang in secret. Mason was his future. In the grand scheme of things, Ian didn't matter.

To mask his hurt and disappointment, Ian joked, "He better treat you right or Mandy will kick his ass."

Mickey laughed at that, his brows raised in a way that showed he knew it was true.

"I would, too, you know?" Ian added, looking at Mickey from under his lashes, all joking aside. "Kick his ass."

Mickey's laughter tapered off as he looked into his cup again. He cleared his throat but said nothing to that.

Ian watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. He itched to reach out and touch him, but he refrained. Mickey wasn't his to touch. He hadn't been Ian's to touch in a very long time.

"Fuckin' tough guy over here," Mickey finally said, raising his eyes to meet Ian's. After a beat, he cleared his throat again and nodded his head towards Mia. "She seems like a good kid. I barely heard a peep outta her since you've been here."

Ian knew that was Mickey's way of changing the subject. He was both grateful and disappointed by that. "Yeah, I got lucky. She's the best. Hardly ever cries."

"You would think bein' Lip's kid she'd be a huge pain in the ass."

Ian chuckled at that even though it hurt his heart a little. "Yeah, you would think."

"She looks like you," Mickey went on, scratching his temple. "With the, uh, with the freckles, and curls, and shit. She's cute."

"Wait," Ian said, wanting to lighten the mood. Needing to lighten the mood. Things had become way too fucking awkward. "Are you sayin' you think I'm cute, Mick?"

"Fuck off," Mickey retorted, grinning.

Ian laughed and took note that he didn't refute it, even though he knew it meant nothing.

"Hey, you two aren't yelling or strangling each other," Mandy said as she walked over. "I don't see any blood. I take that as a good sign?"

"Yeah," Ian said, still smiling at Mickey. "We're good. Everything's good."

"Good," Mandy said, throwing her arms around their shoulders. She rolled her eyes when Mickey shrugged her off, obviously still pissed at her despite them being on good terms. "Let's go eat. I'm fuckin' starving."

"Shouldn't even feed your sneaky ass, bitch," Mickey groused.

Ian grinned harder, happy to be back in Mickey's presence.

He'd missed him.

* * *

Once Ian had a belly full of filet mignon and buttery lobster, he was in a much better mood and no longer felt the need to disappear into his guest room.

The outside deck was massive. Picnic tables were set up and decorated in slate blue and silver, which Ian assumed were the wedding colors. Twinkling string lights were strung up along the perimeter creating a slightly romantic atmosphere and flickering tea-light candles adorned the middle of each table. Blue and silver paper lanterns dotted the space, completing the look. Mason's parents outdid themselves with the decorations.

Ian was sitting at a table away from everyone airplane-feeding Mia her dinner of mashed carrots when it happened. When his good mood completely fucking deteriorated.

"Kiss!" an older woman exclaimed, followed by everyone tapping their silverware against their glasses.

He froze with Mia's spoon in the air when he realized what was about to happen. He knew it was inevitable that he would have to see them kiss at some point, he just hadn't expected it to happen so soon. He reluctantly glanced towards the table where Mickey and Mason were sitting together, his heart hammering in his throat. He knew he should look away before anything happened but found that he couldn't.

Mickey looked flustered, having been put on the spot. Even from thirty feet away, Ian could see him cursing under his breath.

"Come on! Kiss!" someone goaded when the couple hesitated. "Act like you love each other! You're getting married in less than a week, for Pete's sake!"

Mason rolled his eyes and laughed before turning to Mickey with a shrug. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Mickey's lips.

The kiss was quick and chaste, but it still rocked Ian to his core. It hurt a lot more than he'd thought it would. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away.

Among the thoughts swirling in his head, he couldn't help but wonder when Mickey had become comfortable with kissing in public. When did he get to be so open and free to be who he was? He suddenly wished he could have been there to see it.

He also couldn't help but remember how long it took for Mickey to finally kiss him. How long had it taken for him to kiss Mason? It couldn't have been long; Mickey and Mason had only been together for a few months.

Ian was broken from his miserable reverie when Mia whined and made grabby hands for the spoon. He was grateful for the distraction. He forced a small smile for his niece's benefit as he went back to feeding her.

He didn't look towards the happy couple again for the rest of the meal.

* * *

After being shown to their guest room by one of Mason's sisters (the one who didn't want to get inside his pants), Ian heaved a sigh of relief once the door was closed. He finally felt like he could breathe properly again.

"So, how are you holdin' up?" Mandy asked, giving him a sidelong glance as she began unpacking her bag. "You doin' okay?"

"Yeah, all good," he lied as he placed Mia safely in the middle of the queen-sized bed so he could set up the portable crib he'd brought along that would serve as her bed for the next week.

Mandy watched him warily as she folded a shirt. "So, seein' my brother and Mason kissing earlier? You didn't feel anything?"

"Jesus, Mandy," he said with a frown. "Can we please not talk about this?"

"I just wanna make sure you're okay," she clarified. "It can't be easy, watching your ex be with someone else."

"Will you stop asking me if I'm okay?" Ian exclaimed, turning to face her. "You forced me into this shitty situation, so you don't get to ask me if I'm okay. I'm fine, alright? Mickey and I haven't been together for a long time. If you wanna be technical about it, we were never officially together. We fucked a bunch of times. Kissed once or twice. That's it."

Mandy smirked and opened her mouth to refute that, but she was interrupted.

"Yeah, okay, it kinda fuckin' sucks seeing him with someone else, but I'm fine," he snapped. "It's been seven years. He's moved on, I've moved on. Now can you finally move the fuck on?"

Mandy scowled before turning back to her suitcase. "Sorry for caring, asshole. I won't ask you about it again."

Ian sighed and went about putting the portable crib together, glad that the topic was shelved, at least for the time being.

* * *

Ian awoke the next morning to harsh sunlight filtering in through the lacy curtains. He cursed and rubbed his bleary eyes with his thumb and forefinger before sitting up.

He was not looking forward to the day. Aside from having to face Mickey, Mason, and Mason's entire extended family again, things between him and Mandy were awkward.

He glanced over at his still-sleeping best friend. He felt a twinge of regret over their spat the night before, but he was still pissed at her for not being honest with him from the beginning. If he would have known Mickey had no idea he was coming, he never would have shown up. Mandy had forced him into an awkward, shitty situation, and he felt she needed to receive some backlash for that.

He looked away from Mandy and yawned so wide that his jaw cracked before looking over to find Mia sitting up in her portable crib, a grin blooming on her chubby face when she spotted him.

He grinned back at her, suddenly feeling a little better about the morning.

"Morning, baby girl," he said as he climbed out of bed and walked over to pick her up.

Mia gave him a toothless smile and grabbed his stubbly face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks.

Ian leaned in and pressed a kiss against her freckled button nose, causing her to giggle. "You wanna go swimming today?" he asked in his best baby voice. "Huh?" He held Mia against his chest and kissed her head. "Wanna go swimmin' with the fishies?"

Mia cooed and bumped her entire face against his cheek, leaving slobber on his skin.

Ian scrunched up his face before holding Mia up in the air and blowing a raspberry on her tummy, causing her to squeal. "Ew, yeah. Come on, let's change your diaper. You're stinky." Just as he moved to head for the diaper bag, a voice stopped him.

"You two are adorable together, you know that?"

Ian glanced towards the bed to find that Mandy was awake. "Hey. Didn't mean to wake you."

"I was already up."

Ian nodded and looked down at Mia, hating the awkwardness.

Mandy ran a hand through her messy hair and bit her lower lip. "So, I take it you're still pissed at me?"

"A little, yeah," he said before smiling a bit to let her know it wasn't too serious. "But I'll get over it."

Mandy nodded before tossing the blanket away from her body and getting out of bed. She walked over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before doing the same to Mia. She then looked up into Ian's eyes, and they both grinned, the tension between them gone just like that. In the next instant, she exclaimed, "I call dibs on the bathroom!"

Before Ian could open his mouth to argue, the bathroom door was shut in his face.

"Your Aunt Mandy's a major douchebag," he said to Mia who grinned and lightly headbutted his chin.

He took that as an agreement.

* * *

"Damn, Ian!"

Ian turned around and watched as Mandy made her way out of their small attached guest bathroom, dressed in a black one-piece swimsuit. He laughed and watched as she looked him over. "What?"

"You look hot!" Mandy said as her eyes swept over his body, taking in his toned arms, cut abs, and form-fitting swimsuit trunks. "Have you been workin' out?"

"Probably not as much as I should be," he said as he gathered his sunscreen and beach towel to add to Mandy's beach bag. "Ever since Mia's come around, it's hard to find time to focus on any of that."

"Well, you look awesome," she said as she finished gathering her things. "I don't know how my brother is gonna keep his tongue in his mouth when he sees you."

Ian sighed, not wanting to think about things like that. The last thing he needed was any unfounded hope that his engaged ex still wanted him. He definitely didn't want to be that guy.

"Will you stop it?" he warned. "I'm sure having his fiancé right next to him will help with that."

"Mason's hot, don't get me wrong. He's got that whole Adrian Grenier thing goin' on," Mandy said, shrugging. "But he's not you."

"Can we go now, please?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and directing her bodily towards the door.

Mandy laughed and elbowed him playfully in the ribs as they left their room.

A few minutes later, they made their way down to the small beach where a group of Mason's family and friends were already set up with brightly colored beach towels and umbrellas. They picked a spot close to the lake, fully intent on taking advantage of the water since it was such a hot and humid day.

After setting up their umbrella and applying a liberal amount of sunscreen to Mia's exposed skin, Ian handed her off to Mandy so he could slather SPF 50 on his own fair skin.

"Ian!" a voice called out. "Oh, my goodness! Your hair looks so adorable!"

Ian turned to find Mason's sister Miranda standing behind him. He chuckled and ran a hand over his curls. With the humidity being as high as it was, and the fact that he hadn't gotten a haircut in a while, his curls were ridiculous.

"Thanks," he said sheepishly, not wanting to seem overly eager to accept the doting female's compliments. The last thing he wanted to do was to lead her on.

Without asking for permission, Miranda ran her manicured fingers through his hair. "So soft! What condition do you use?"

Mandy snorted as she fixed her towel.

"Uh, something generic… I forget the name," Ian answered. He averted his eyes over Miranda's shoulder and caught sight of Mickey standing a few yards away watching him. He watched as Mickey's eyes darted to his hair before dropping down to take in his half-naked body. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Mickey's mouth before he finally looked away.

If Ian didn't know any better, he'd say Mickey liked what he saw.

He tried not to dwell on that thought, though, when he saw Mason standing a few feet behind Mickey. Dressed in form-fitting, expensive-looking dark blue swimming trunks, Mason didn't look half-bad himself. In fact, the dude was hot. Ian couldn't deny that, even though he really fucking wanted to. He swallowed the bitter lump in his throat, not wanting to think about what Mickey thought of Mason's body.

He turned away from the couple to spread out his towel.

A little while later, after splashing around in the lake for a bit, Ian left the water, not wanting to stay in the sun with Mia for too long. He also wanted to get his pale ass back under the umbrella, knowing he burned like a motherfucker. The last thing he wanted or needed during the already awkward and uncomfortable weekend was to have to deal with a bad sunburn.

Mandy waved him off when he asked if she was coming with him, opting to stay in the water a bit longer with a few of Mason's female cousins.

Ian made his way to their spot on the beach and gently laid Mia on the towel, smiling down at her when she babbled and happily kicked her tiny feet in the sand. She loved the beach, duly noted. He plopped down next to her and reapplied sunscreen to his already-burning arms. Unbelievable. He'd been in the sun for fifteen goddamn minutes.

"Uncle Ian is gonna look like a giant lobster by the end of the week, huh?" he asked a cooing Mia. He laughed and lifted his eyes from his adoring niece and paused what he was doing, the sight in front of him causing his smile to slip and a lump to form in his throat.

He watched as Mickey and Mason splashed and wrestled in the water, their smiles playful, and their laughter carrying up the beach to taunt him.

Mickey looked carefree. He looked happy. Happier than Ian can remember ever seeing him.

At that moment, he couldn't stop the unwanted thoughts from entering his mind. Mason was fucking lucky. He got to have everything Ian had ever wanted back when he was a kid but never got the chance to have. He and Mickey had never even stood a chance.

It wasn't fair.

None of it was fair.

Mia's sudden wailing snagged his attention.

"Fuck!" Ian exclaimed when he looked down at his red-faced niece, her cheeks streaked with tears. He then spotted the trickle of blood running down the heel of her foot.

Everyone on the beach turned and watched as he scooped the baby up to comfort her. He was panicking so much that he didn't even register Mickey suddenly kneeling next to him moments later, water dripping from his body and onto Ian's towel.

"Ian!" Mickey exclaimed. "Ian, look at me." When Ian finally lifted his head to look at him, Mickey searched his eyes. "Calm the fuck down. What happened?"

"She cut her foot," Ian uttered in a wavering tone as he went back to examining Mia's bleeding heel. "I wasn't watching her. I—I shoulda been payin' more attention to her."

"It's just a small cut," Mickey said, pushing Ian's hand away and taking the baby's foot in his hand instead. He bent down a little to inspect the damage. "Yeah, see. Looks like she cut it on a small piece of shell. It's not deep. She's fine. Just gotta clean it up with some rubbing alcohol."

Ian held his breath as Mickey invaded his personal space. He smelled incredible, like coconut and warm summer air. He closed his eyes and evened out his breathing, trying to calm down. He counted to ten under his breath.

"It's alright," Mickey said, pulling back. "She's good. Don't beat yourself up about it."

Ian nodded, his eyes still closed.

"Hey," Mickey said, cupping Ian's cheek in his right hand. "Ian, look at me."

Ian opened his eyes and held his breath as he stared back at Mickey.

"Stop freakin' the fuck out," Mickey said, his brows high as he searched Ian's eyes. "She's fine."

Ian nodded and breathed again when Mickey's hand left his face.

Mickey plopped down on Ian's towel and bumped his wet shoulder against Ian's bare one. "Aren't you supposed to be some big shot EMT now? You really flippin' the fuck out over a few drops of blood?"

Ian cradled Mia against his chest and bounced her a little, relieved when her crying began to subside. "Lip trusted me with her," he muttered after a beat. "This is the first time she's gotten hurt since I've had her."

"Hey," Mickey said, resting a hand on Ian's bare shoulder and squeezing lightly. "I get it. She's fine, though. It wasn't your fault. Shit happens. You can't beat yourself up every time the kid gets hurt. You grew up in the fuckin' Gallagher house, man. You've seen worse shit than that, I'm sure."

"Yeah…"

"Fuck, you've seen me get shot in the ass."

Their eyes caught and held as they both smiled a little at the absurd memory.

"I'm supposed to protect her," Ian muttered against Mia's head. "It's my job to protect her."

Mickey squeezed Ian's shoulder one last time before finally dropping his hand, his fingertips lightly drifting down his arm as he did so. He clasped his hands in his lap before saying, "Look, I've only seen you with her for about a day but, from what I can tell so far, you're doin' a good fuckin' job. The kid adores you, man."

Ian turned his head, his cheek resting against the top of Mia's head, and locked eyes with Mickey. He watched as Mickey stared back intently, his Adam's apple bobbing quickly. His eyes flitted to Ian's hair and lingered for a few moments before he looked back into Ian's eyes.

A moment passed between them before they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Ian tore his eyes away from Mickey's and looked up to find Mason standing over them, a concerned look on his face as he glanced between them.

"Everything okay over here?" Mason asked. "What happened?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Mickey breathed, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "The baby cut her foot on a shell. She's fine."

"We have a first-aid kit up at the cabin," Mason said, his tone unreadable as he continued studying them. "I can go get it if you want me to."

"That's okay," Ian said, moving to stand with Mia still in his arms. "I can go get it."

Mason nodded with his eyes on Mickey. "It's in the first-floor half-bath under the sink."

"'Kay. Thanks." Ian moved past Mason to head towards the cabin, intent on getting his niece's cut cleaned and covered as soon as possible.

As he walked, he thought back to the intense way Mickey had been looking at him moments before. He glanced over his shoulder towards his towel to find Mickey standing. It appeared that he and Mason were having a heated discussion, looking far from the happy couple that had been in the water ten minutes before.

He sighed, knowing his continued presence would most likely cause nothing but trouble for the pair, and hating that fact.

The last thing he wanted was to cause Mickey any unneeded and unwanted stress.

* * *

Later that evening, after everyone had gotten cleaned up from spending the day on the beach, they all gathered on the massive deck to enjoy drinks, burgers, and shrimp kabobs.

The tea lights that were strung around the perimeter of the deck were twinkling, creating a soft glow. Soft music played from a speaker set up in the corner. It was all very romantic.

Ian hated everything about it.

After Mandy took Mia off his hands to parade her around, he decided to take full advantage of the situation. He needed to be alone with his jumbled thoughts.

Grabbing a bottle of water from a nearby cooler, he headed away from the party and made his way to the dock. He walked to the end of it and sat down. He looked out across the water, watching as the sun descended, streaking ombre hues of purple, pink, and orange across the darkening sky.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the sounds and smells of summer to tickle his senses and calm his nerves a little. He focused on the sounds of cicadas buzzing in the trees; the waves lapping softly at the dock pilings; the lingering scent of grilled food and charcoal; and the sweet smell of nearby honeysuckle flowers. He breathed in and out steadily, feeling himself starting to relax.

"You good?"

Ian jumped a little at the sudden voice and looked over his shoulder to find Mickey standing behind him. He nodded, unable to find his voice at that moment.

Mickey lit a cigarette and motioned towards the spot on the end of the dock next to Ian in a silent question.

Ian nodded, permitting him to sit down.

Mickey sat down, wiggling his butt a little to get comfortable, and dangled his legs over the edge. He took a deep drag of his cigarette before offering it to Ian.

"Thanks," Ian said, taking the proffered cigarette and glancing back out at the lake. "I quit a few years ago. Need it now, though. My nerves are shot."

"Yeah," Mickey said after a beat. "You freaked the fuck out back there earlier."

"Yeah," Ian muttered, taking a long drag of the cigarette before saying, "It's the first time she's gotten hurt since I've had her. Doesn't feel so fuckin' good."

"It was an honest accident, Ian," Mickey said, his tone bordering on soft. "There's fuckin' shells all over the place, man. It was bound to happen."

"Yeah, well, I shoulda been watchin' her better," Ian snapped, angry with himself. He had one job. One fucking job, but he had been too busy lusting after an ex who didn't want him. An ex who'd probably barely thought about him in the seven years since they'd last seen each other. An ex who was getting married in less than a week. He was so fucking stupid.

"You gonna beat yourself up every time the kid gets hurt, huh?" Mickey asked. "If so, you better get fuckin' ready 'cause it's gonna happen a lot."

Ian handed him the cigarette back, his heart fluttering when their fingers brushed. He side-eyed him and asked, "You an expert on kids now?"

"Nah," Mickey said before taking a pull on the cigarette. When he spoke next, smoke billowed from his nostrils. "I grew up in the Milkovich house. Know shit like that happens all the time. There's no use in tryin' to stop shit like that from happening all the time unless you plan on keepin' the kid on a leash."

Ian stared at Mickey's profile for a beat before looking away. He gnawed on his lower lip before bringing up the one thing he'd been itching to bring up. "I heard Svetlana lost the baby right after I left."

"Yeah," Mickey answered as he flicked the cigarette a few times and stared down idly at his hand. "She had a miscarriage at nine weeks. Woke up in the middle of the night one night, thinking she'd pissed the bed." He didn't finish the obvious.

Ian nodded and looked back at the water. He didn't know what to say to that, so he settled on, "I'm sorry, Mick."

Mickey sniffed and shrugged before finishing the cigarette off and flicking it into the water. "It was what it was. Nothin' anyone could do about it."

"How did you feel about it?" Ian asked tentatively. He knew it was probably a sore subject for Mickey, but he wanted to know. He needed to know. It was a question that had plagued him for years.

"Fuck, I dunno," Mickey said, sounding as if he'd rather talk about anything else. Ian couldn't blame him. "Would I sound like a complete dick if I said I felt fuckin' relieved more than anything?"

"No," Ian said in a soft tone. He was glad to know that Mickey knew he could still be open and candid with him. "You don't sound like a dick."

Mickey pulled a hand down his face and sighed. "Didn't wanna bring a fuckin' kid into the world with Terry around. The kid woulda had no fuckin' chance."

Ian nodded and looked down at his bare feet that were dangling over the water. "Yeah. I get that."

"No fuckin' way I was ready for a kid back then," Mickey continued after a stretch of awkward silence. "Especially a kid I never even wanted or asked for."

Ian nodded again and glanced back out at the lake. He felt unwanted tears prickling his eyes and blinked them away. He didn't like to think about that time in his life often, but when he did, he was overcome with overwhelming sadness and regret.

"I should have stuck around," he uttered after a pause. "Maybe things would have been different for you. Different for us…"

Mickey remained quiet for a while, letting Ian's admission hang in the air. "Nah," he finally said. "Even though she lost the baby, it still wouldn't have been safe for us. It wouldn't have changed anything. Two gay teenagers in the South Side of Chicago with a homophobic, homicidal prick for a father? We were fuckin' doomed from the start. "

"Still," Ian said, finding it hard to speak around the lump in his throat. "I shouldn't have left you. I shoulda stayed with you. I was a fuckin' coward."

Mickey clicked his tongue. "You were a dumb kid in a fucked-up situation, Ian."

"And you were a kid forced to marry a woman you got pregnant at gunpoint," Ian exclaimed, suddenly feeling angry. He was angry at himself. Angry at Terry Milkovich. Angry at Mickey for not holding him accountable for his fucked-up actions. "I fuckin' left you, Mickey. I left you to face that asshole by yourself."

"Stop. It was for the best. Asshole probably woulda ended up killin' you," Mickey retorted. "It was dangerous. You gettin' out, me eventually gettin' out, it was the only way out, short of us offin' the fucker. You were fuckin' smart for leaving."

Ian let out a mirthless laugh and shook his head. "Is that why you didn't ask me to stay back then? 'Cause you thought I was being smart?"

"I wanted you to stay," Mickey admitted after a pause. "I really fuckin' wanted you to, but I couldn't ask you to stay. You know why I couldn't. It wasn't safe, for either of us. It fuckin' sucked, but you leavin' was a good thing. Alright? Fuckin' trust me. I'm glad you got out. I don't… I don't hate you for that. I don't hold that against you. I never fuckin' did."

Ian sniffed and blinked back tears. After a beat, he said, "I see him sometimes. Your dad. On the street. He doesn't even glance my way. It's like he doesn't even remember who I am. Like he doesn't remember what he did to us. What he did to you." He swallowed hard before uttering, "It's funny 'cause I can't fuckin' forget."

Mickey nodded and rubbed a hand over his mouth.

Ian closed his eyes and let out a shuddery breath.

"That shit's all in the past, Ian," Mickey said, his voice gravelly. "It's done. Don't let that fucker live inside your head anymore. He's not worth it."

Ian turned his head and locked eyes with him.

"You're here now," Mickey said, holding Ian's gaze. "We're both here, and we're both alive. That's what matters. That's all that fuckin' matters."

Ian nodded and finally tore his eyes away from Mickey's.

"Let's just move forward from all that bullshit," Mickey continued. "Start fresh."

Ian sniffed again and laughed. "What? You wanna try bein' friends?"

Mickey's brows rose. "What's so fuckin' wrong with that, huh?"

"Nothing, Mick," Ian answered after a beat, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing's wrong with that."

Mickey stared back at him with an arched brow before smiling. He then jerked his head towards the cabin where the party was still going on without them. "C'mon. Enough with the sad, sappy shit. We should head back. I hear they're hookin' up the karaoke machine."

Ian stood when Mickey did and laughed. "Since when the fuck do you do karaoke? The Mickey Milkovich I used to know wouldn't have been caught dead doin' karaoke."

"Ey, I do a fuckin' mean rendition of Love is a Battlefield," Mickey defended as they headed up the dock. "Shows what the fuck you know."

Ian tossed his head back and laughed again.

Mickey laughed, too, before punching him playfully in the arm. "The fuck's so funny, asshole?"

Ian smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just glad I get the chance to know you again, I guess. Maybe for real this time."

Mickey's smile faltered a bit as he stared back. He then laughed and knocked his knuckle against his nose before turning to continue walking. "Come on, you fuckin' cornball."

Ian fell into step with him, shoving his hands into his pockets and smiling, watching as his feet kicked up sand.

Mickey side-eyed him as they walked, a smirk on his face. "I don't remember your ass bein' this corny."

"Fuck you," Ian retorted.

"You wish, bitch."

Ian grinned before matching Mickey's laugh. The smile remained on his face for the entire walk back to the cabin.

For the first time in weeks, maybe even months, he felt good.

* * *

The next day, everyone spent a majority of their time lounging on the beach and taking advantage of the cool water considering the temperature was well into the 90s.

Ian slathered on sunscreen that day and also kept a close eye on Mia, not wanting any more accidents to happen.

Mickey spent most of his time on the beach with Mason and Mason's family playing cornhole and catching frisbees, and Ian tried his best to ignore them and kept most of his attention focused on Mandy and his niece.

After the sun began to descend, everyone packed up their stuff and headed back to the cabin where boxes of pizza were waiting for them. Apparently, Mason's parents wanted to take a break from the grill. Ian didn't mind; he'd eaten more seafood in the past couple of days than he had in his entire life.

After filling up on three slices of Hawaiian pizza and giving Mia her dinner of mashed squash, Ian decided to call it an early night, opting out of the friendly card game Mickey and Mandy were engaged in with a few of Mason's relatives out on the deck.

He kissed Mandy on top of the head, nodded at Mickey to say goodnight, and grabbed Mia, eager to get ready for bed and sleep for a while. Being in the sun for hours on end had drained him. He couldn't wait to wash down his meds, take a cool shower, and take advantage of the air conditioning; after he took care of Mia, of course.

He missed the way Mickey watched him as he walked away before dropping his eyes back to his cards once Ian had disappeared inside.

Ian groggily woke up a few hours later, not remembering having fallen asleep. He looked over to find Mandy peacefully sleeping next to him, snoring with her mouth agape. He glanced over at Mia's portable crib, finding her also sound asleep.

His throat was parched, and he decided he needed a drink of water in the worst way. Being careful not to wake Mandy, he got out of bed and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

He made his way through the dark cabin, hoping he didn't run into anyone on his way down to the kitchen. He didn't want to look like some weirdo creeping around in the dark in the middle of the night.

Once in the kitchen, the light above the stove provided just enough light for him to see. He reached into a random cupboard and frowned when all he found were fancy plates. He searched a few more cupboards before finally finding the glasses. He grabbed one and turned to head to the fridge, intent on getting his water and returning to bed unseen.

A voice suddenly pierced through the quiet, nearly causing him to jump and drop his glass.

"The fuck you doin' down here?" Mickey asked, sleepily rubbing his right eye with the heel of his hand and standing there in only a pair of snug boxer briefs.

Ian quickly glanced away, refusing to look at Mickey while he was half-naked, even though he really wanted to fucking look at him.

"Jesus, Mickey," he said as he turned to fill up his glass. "You scared the shit outta me."

"Shit, my bad, man," Mickey said with a grin, letting him know he wasn't that sorry.

"Uh-huh." Ian watched as Mickey headed for the cupboard to grab his own glass. He allowed himself a peek at Mickey's ass. He was happy to know that particular thing hadn't changed. Even though he knew he'd probably never get his hands on that ass again, he was happy to know an ass that perfect still existed in the world.

"I'm thirsty…" he breathed distractedly. He quickly tore his eyes away from Mickey's ass when his ex turned around. "I, uh… thought I'd sneak down to grab a drink."

"Yeah, me too," Mickey said with a sniff. "I also can't sleep. Have too much shit on my mind."

"Oh, yeah?" Ian asked, smiling a little, secretly pleased to be getting the unexpected alone time with his ex, even though he knew it was bound to make matters worse for him in the long run. "Shit like what?"

"None of your fuckin' business, that's what," Mickey said with a smirk as he playfully brushed past Ian on his way to the fridge to fill up his glass.

Ian ignored the fluttering in his belly when their arms touched as Mickey passed him. He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. "Okay, fine. How about we play twenty-one questions, then? I ask you something, you ask me something." He shrugged at Mickey's questioning look. "Sound fair?"

"You wanna play twenty-one questions, huh?" Mickey quipped, his eyebrows shooting up as he moved to sit on a stool lining the massive counter island. He took a sip of his water as he looked at Ian over the rim of his glass. After pulling the glass away from his mouth and licking his lips, he asked, "The fuck is this, middle school? We gonna play seven minutes in heaven next?"

Ian smirked and kept his opinion on that suggestion to himself. He could definitely do a lot to that ass in seven minutes if he was ever allowed that chance again. He walked to the counter island and leaned against it, directly across from where Mickey was sitting on the other side.

"Just wanna know you again," he finally said, shrugging. "See what you've been up to for the past seven years. We said we were gonna try to be friends, right? Might as well catch each other up on what's been goin' on in our lives."

Mickey tongued the inside of his cheek as he regarded him warily. Finally, he said, "Alright, I'll go first. The fuck happened after you left, man? Mandy said you got kicked out of the army, but she was a little vague on the details." He took a sip of his water as he allowed Ian to consider his answer.

Ian sighed and ran a hand over his head, suddenly regretting suggesting the game. He was hoping they'd start with easy questions; shit like what they did for work, and what they liked to do in their free time now that they were adults. Leave it to Mickey to knock the breath out of him on the first try.

He then figured Mickey would find out sooner or later, anyway; so he might as well lay it all out on the table.

"I got kicked out before I ever left basic," he started. "I tried to steal a helicopter. The blade snapped, rotor caught fire." That was the very short version of the story. He figured Mickey didn't need to know the finer, shittier details.

Mickey arched a brow, looking mildly impressed by what he was hearing. "You tried to steal a fuckin' helicopter? You serious?"

Ian shrugged, feeling a little flustered under Mickey's blatant scrutiny. "Yeah."

"Gotta admit, that's pretty fuckin' badass, Gallagher," Mickey said, smirking against the rim of his glass.

"Yeah, not so badass," Ian intoned, sighing. "Turns out it was the bipolar rearing its ugly fuckin' head for the first time. It wasn't too long after that I became manic, did a bunch of other crazy shit, and finally got my ass to a hospital."

"Shit, man," Mickey muttered. "Mandy told me about that, you bein' bipolar. She didn't tell me about the rest of that shit, though." He paused before asking, "You cool now, though?"

"Yeah," Ian said, smiling gently. He liked that Mickey seemed worried about him. He liked knowing that Mickey still cared, even a little, after seven years. "I'm cool now."

Mickey nodded, sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and dropped his eyes to Ian's bare chest before looking away.

"What about you?" Ian asked after sipping his water, wanting to change the subject in the worst way. The last thing he wanted to do was freak Mickey out with talk of his mental illness. "How did you end up in Pittsburgh, of all places?"

"I got an aunt and some cousins on my mom's side who live out there," Mickey said, spinning his glass idly between his hands on the counter as he spoke. "After Svetlana lost the kid, my dad got even fuckin' worse, if you can believe it. He started pushin' for us to try for another kid again as if we wanted the first one to begin with. I had to get the fuck out. I couldn't fuckin' do it anymore. The asshole had taken enough from me."

He paused to scrub a hand down his face, his words hanging meaningfully in the air. "We went behind his back one day and annulled our fake-ass marriage, and a few days after that I hopped a Greyhound to Pittsburgh. Never looked back. It was the best fuckin' decision I ever made."

Ian nodded as he took it all in. He wondered what would have happened if he'd stayed or gone back sooner? Maybe Mickey would've asked him to run away with him? Maybe they could have gotten out together?

"You like it out there?" he asked, deciding to stick to the easy questions.

"It's not bad," Mickey shrugged. "They have a lotta cool museums and shit, a lotta cool history. All people ever talk about is fuckin' sports, though, and their accent is ugly as shit but other than that I don't have any complaints. Terry's not there, so there's that."

Ian nodded and bit his lower lip, the topic of Terry causing his heart to race unpleasantly.

"It's my turn to ask a question, by the way," Mickey retorted, giving him an annoyed look.

Ian held up his hands to placate him and laughed. "Okay, tough guy. Ask away."

Mickey shifted his jaw a little before asking, "You doin' okay? You know, with the bipolar shit? For real? No bullshit."

"A lot better than I was," Ian said after a beat, knowing he couldn't bullshit Mickey. He didn't even want to bullshit him. He rarely liked talking about his bipolar disorder in depth. He didn't like the pity he received from most people, but he wanted Mickey to know.

"For a little while there, I wasn't medicated. I was doin' all sorts of stupid shit; I was screwin' random guys in dirty alleys." He missed the small frown Mickey shot him at that. "I was doin' drugs left and right, without even knowin' what I was swallowing half the time."

"Fuck," Mickey breathed, scrubbing a shaky hand over his mouth.

Ian lifted his eyes from the counter and tried to gauge Mickey's reaction. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint him, but he wanted him to know the whole truth. He wanted Mickey to know him. The good, the bad, and the very ugly.

"Yeah. I finally hit rock bottom after this one particular night. I, uh, I'd gotten involved in a gang bang and couldn't remember shit about it. It scared the fuck outta me. I immediately went to get tested and took my ass to a psych ward. Stayed for 60 days and cleaned my shit up. I've been on my meds ever since. Been somewhat stable ever since. It's been about four years now. I still have bad days, you know? Days where I'm low and don't feel like gettin' outta bed, or days where I feel like I'm on top of the fuckin' world, but I know now. I know the signs, so that's when I take my ass to the doctor and get my meds adjusted."

Mickey nodded and looked down at his glass.

Ian hated that Mickey had nothing to say to that. He wanted to know what he was thinking. He'd always been so hard to read. That hadn't changed.

He continued, "So, yeah, as you can tell, I've been through a lot since I've last seen you."

"Yeah, fuckin' sounds like it."

Ian laughed into his glass.

"I read that, uh, that bad shit can trigger that kinda stuff," Mickey began, his tone slightly shaky. "You think what, uh, what happened between us back then—"

"No," Ian interrupted, not wanting Mickey to finish that sentence. He already knew where he was going with it. "It had nothing to do with what we went through, Mickey. It's genetic. I got it from Monica."

"Yeah, but what we went through coulda fuckin' triggered something—"

"It didn't," Ian snapped. "I don't want you thinking any of that shit was your fault, you hear me? It wasn't anyone's fault. It's bullshit genes. That's it."

Mickey nodded and chewed the corner of his mouth, still looking unsure. "Yeah, okay."

Ian brought the glass to his mouth and took a sip of his water, needing to do something with his hands before he did something stupid like reach out and comfort him.

Mickey spoke first after a bit. "So, you got anyone special in your life, Gallagher?"

"No," Ian answered, a little surprised and hurt by the question. "Don't really have time to see anyone, not with workin' sixty-plus hours a week. Whatever free time I do have goes to sleepin' and takin' care of Mia."

"So, no geriatric viagroids with dusty balls waitin' for your ass back home, then?" Mickey quirked an eyebrow and licked the corner of his mouth.

Ian smirked, the tension leaving his body when he realized it was Mickey's way of lightening the mood. "No." He watched as Mickey laughed and couldn't help grinning at the sight. "Asshole."

"Still need to find time to let yourself be happy, man," Mickey said after his laughter tapered off, the moment turning serious once again. "I know you said you're trying not to be selfish anymore, but it can't always be about other people."

Ian didn't know which was worse; talking to Mickey about his bipolar disorder, or listening to him urge him into finding love.

"Jesus. You sound like Mandy," he finally answered with a sigh. "She keeps tryin' to get me to date, thinks I'm wasting my life away by working all the time. Thing is, I don't need a guy in my life to be happy." He watched as Mickey nodded before adding, "Besides, love is overrated."

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey asked, smirking and quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

Ian shrugged and looked down into his water. He swallowed hard before allowing the words to leave his mouth. "I'm still lickin' my wounds from my last relationship."

Mickey took a sip of his water before asking, "Your last relationship, huh? How long ago was that?"

"About," Ian paused and pretended to think it over, "Seven years ago."

"Kash and Grab?" Mickey asked after a beat. "Didn't realize you two were that serious."

"No." Ian smirked. "Not Kash."

"Oh," Mickey said, scratching his temple. He then snapped his fingers. "Was it that grandpa you were seein'?"

"No," Ian said with a roll of his eyes before adding, "There's only one guy I'm talking about. He's kind of a smartass. He's a real pain in the ass, actually." He then straightened up and shook his head, sighing theatrically. "I don't even know what I saw in the guy, now that I think about it." He smirked to let Mickey know he was teasing.

Mickey's smile faltered as he finally dropped the act. "Bullshit I was your last relationship."

"The only one that ever really mattered to me," Ian said meaningfully, catching Mickey's eyes with his own. He then cleared his throat when they stared for too long and averted his eyes. "I dated a few guys here and there, fucked a bunched, but nothing substantial ever really came out of 'em."

He watched as Mickey dropped his eyes. He remembered it was his turn to ask a question. "So, uh… Mason?"

"What about him?" Mickey asked, shifting a little on his stool and looking a little uncomfortable for the first time since the questions started.

"Do you love the guy?" Before Mickey could answer, Ian interjected, "Of course, you do. You wouldn't be marrying him if you didn't." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "That was a stupid fuckin' question."

He missed the look Mickey gave him while his eyes were covered. He swallowed before continuing, "It's good you found someone. I'm glad you're happy. If anyone deserves to be happy, it's you, Mick."

"Thanks," Mickey muttered after a beat. He tongued the inside of his cheek before finally lifting his eyes to meet Ian's.

After another weird moment passed between them, Ian decided it was best to cut the conversation short before he said something he'd end up regretting. Something along the lines of missing Mickey. Or about how fucking badly he wanted to reach out and touch him.

"Anyway, I should probably head up to bed," he said. "Mia will be up in a couple of hours, gotta try to get at least a little bit of sleep."

"Yeah," Mickey said, his tone soft. "Probably should head up, too. Got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

Ian rubbed a hand down his face after placing his glass in the sink and sighed. "Shit. I'm afraid to ask what that means."

He'd thought Mickey had been joking about doing karaoke the night before, but he hadn't been. The entire group had spent over three hours taking turns singing along with the expensive karaoke machine, with Ian and Mandy doing a poor rendition of 'Black Velvet' together. Ian had to then sit back and watch as Mickey begrudgingly mumbled along to Sonny and Cher's 'I Got You, Babe' with Mason. That was something Ian wanted to completely fucking forget.

"All I'm gonna say is make sure you get your rest," Mickey said with a laugh. "You're gonna need it."

"Great." Ian looked at him and smiled softly. "Night, Mick."

"Night," Mickey said, his eyes dropping to Ian's bare chest briefly before he glanced down at his glass again.

Ian gave him one final look before dropping his head and turning to leave the dimly lit kitchen.

He had no idea he was leaving a crestfallen and confused Mickey behind.

* * *

Mickey hadn't been lying when he said they had a big day ahead of them.

Mason's parents had thought it would be a good idea to have a 'game' day, complete with an actual award ceremony at the end. The activities planned included a three-legged race, a cornhole competition, and a canoe race.

Ian had never known a family quite like Mason's. He didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. But he figured maybe Mickey deserved the whole 'Leave It To Beaver' lifestyle since he'd had such a shitty childhood. Maybe Mason's family had the potential to make Mickey feel safe and loved in a way he never had before. As much as Ian wanted to hate Mason and his family, he couldn't hate that. It made him a little sad to think he'd never get a chance to make Mickey feel safe and happy, but he was glad to know that maybe someone could.

"Okay, everyone, listen up!" Mason's father, John, exclaimed to get everyone's attention. "Here's how this is all gonna work!"

Ian tuned out Mason's dad's monologue and glanced over at Mickey who was standing a few yards away with Mason. He could tell by the scowl on Mickey's face that he was in absolute hell. He was grumpily slapping at mosquitoes and was grumbling under his breath. He looked adorable as fuck, and Ian felt his heart beating a little faster in his chest at the sight. Apparently, it was still taking Mickey some time getting used to his new carefree, cheesy, nature-filled life.

As everyone stood around picking who they wanted to pair up with for the three-legged race, Ian was surprised and a little hurt when Mandy immediately bypassed him to link her arm through Mason's.

"I wanna get to know my future brother-in-law a little better," Mandy declared. "What better way than a good old-fashioned three-legged race?"

Mason grinned at Mandy, obviously pleased by the gesture. "Sounds good to me, teammate!"

An irrational feeling of betrayal washed over Ian when they high-fived, and he gave Mandy a quizzical look, letting her know he felt betrayed by her actions.

Discreetly, Mandy smiled and jerked her head towards her brother, who had yet to receive a partner.

Ian suddenly loved his best friend at that moment. He rubbed his sweaty palms against his shorts and made his way over to Mickey before anyone else could snatch him up.

"Hey." When Mickey looked at him, his eyes squinting in the sun, he asked, "You, uh, you wanna pair up? I was gonna team up with Mandy, but she already snagged your guy." When Mickey said nothing to that, he went on, "I don't know anyone else here. I, uh, figured I'd ask you first."

Mickey scratched the tip of his nose with his thumbnail as his eyes swept over Ian. "Yeah. Sure. Why the fuck not?" he answered after a slight hesitation.

Ian smiled and nodded. "Okay."

Mickey's eyes flitted over Ian's face, his eyebrows softening. He then cleared his throat and motioned for Ian to stand next to him. As they clumsily connected their legs with the provided band that Brenda had passed out, using each other's shoulder for balance, Mickey warned, "Better win this shit with me, Gallagher. No fuckin' around."

"Don't worry," Ian said with a grin, feeling a little giddy at the prospect of being tied up with Mickey in any way. "We got this."

Mickey's brows arched as his eyes dropped to Ian's lips. He glanced away in the next instant. He eventually snaked his arm around Ian's waist as they synced their steps and walked to the starting point together. "Fuckin' ridiculous…" he muttered under his breath.

Ian's heart was hammering in his chest at the feeling of Mickey's arm around him. He tried to ignore the swoop in his belly and the way Mickey's fingers clutched his shirt a little. He wrapped his left arm around Mickey's shoulders, holding him close to his side, and tried with everything in him to not be affected by the way he smelled. He gripped Mickey's shoulder, not wasting the rare opportunity to touch bare skin.

Everyone lined up where they were instructed to.

"On your mark!" one of Mason's aunts yelled as she waved a bandana, looking as if she was taking her duty to heart. "Get set!"

Mickey tightened his grip around Ian's waist and got into position.

Ian bit his lip to fight back his smile. He'd never seen Mickey look so focused and determined.

"Go!"

Immediately, their steps fell in sync as they raced towards the finish line that was twenty yards away. They were both taking the whole thing very seriously as they nearly knocked over a pair of Mason's pre-teen cousins as they passed them. They were steps ahead of everyone else in a matter of seconds as they worked like the perfect team.

Before they knew it, they tripped and tumbled to the ground after crossing the finish line, Ian half on top of Mickey. They both laughed at the absurdity of it all as everyone cheered and clapped around them as if they'd just won an Olympic event. It was all very fucking cheesy, and Ian never imagined he would find himself in such a ridiculous situation, especially with Mickey.

He looked down into Mickey's smiling face and grinned, their faces only inches apart. As their eyes locked, their laughter tapered off, and their smiles faded.

Ian swallowed hard and dropped his gaze to Mickey's lips. It would take so little effort to lean down those three inches and kiss him…

"Alright," Mickey murmured after a few moments, turning his head to the side, causing the tip of Ian's nose to adorably smoosh against his cheek. "Get up."

Ian nodded and hesitantly removed himself from Mickey, his heart hammering in his chest the entire time when he realized what he'd been about to do. He offered his hand to Mickey to help him up, but he waved him off. He watched as Mickey stood up and brushed the grass from the back of his shorts, his cheeks looking a little flushed.

Without looking in Ian's direction, Mickey turned and walked away, right in Mason's direction.

Ian watched with a heavy heart as Mason grinned and hugged Mickey. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and forced a smile when Mandy walked over to congratulate him. He glanced in Mickey's direction one last time to find him looking back at him.

Mickey looked away again before Ian could process the strange look he was giving him.

* * *

Later that night, Mason's parents hosted a bonfire as a way to top off the already over-the-top day. Coolers of beer and wine coolers were brought down from the cabin, and everyone sat around the fire to roast jumbo marshmallows to make gooey, delicious s'mores and share funny stories.

Everyone seemed to be in a joyous mood, including Ian who was still riding high from his day spent with Mickey. They had paired up for every ridiculous event that day. They'd huddled together and laughed at others' expenses, they joked around and teased each other like old times, and they won two out of the four activities, earning them each a small generic trophy for their efforts. Turned out, they made a great team.

That hadn't surprised Ian.

"Hey," Mandy said, walking up to him. She looked exhausted from her full day of activities out in the sun. "I'm gonna head up to bed. I can't keep my eyes open anymore. You want me to take the baby up with me?"

Ian looked down at Mia in his arms, smiling a little when he saw that she was nodding off against his chest. "Yeah, probably should get her to bed. She had a big day."

Mandy gently took Mia from him before asking, "Are you heading up, too?"

"No, not yet. I'm not tired," he said, knowing exactly why he was feeling so awake at the moment but keeping that to himself. "I think I'm gonna hang out down here for a bit and socialize."

Mandy nodded and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before turning to head for the cabin.

Ian swiped a hand over his face as he watched her walk away before turning towards a nearby cooler and grabbing his first beer of the night. Since Mia was in good hands for the rest of the night, he figured a drink or two wouldn't hurt.

He turned back towards the fire as he took a sip of his cold drink. It felt good going down his dry throat. After listening in on and smiling at a nonsensical conversation a few of Mason's drunk uncles were having next to him, he averted his eyes over the fire to find Mickey on the other side, watching him. He slowly pulled the beer can away from his mouth, slightly captivated by the look on Mickey's face.

Their eyes caught over the crackling fire, the flames illuminating and flickering across their faces as they stared at each other. The party and laughter went on around them, everyone else oblivious to the moment passing between the two of them.

After a bit, Mickey finally tore his eyes away from Ian's. He downed the rest of his beer, tossed the can into the fire, and then turned to head down towards the beach.

Ian watched after him with a frown before following him, unaware of Mason watching them as they went.

"Mickey!"

"Walk away, Gallagher," Mickey admonished once they were a few dozen yards away from the party.

Ian nearly stumbled as he hurried through the sand to catch up to him. "Will you stop for a fuckin' second and talk to me? What's your problem?"

"What the fuck did I just say to you?" Mickey barked. "Walk the fuck away!"

"Look," Ian said, grabbing Mickey's arm when they were by the water and far enough away from watchful eyes. "Talk to me, Mickey. The hell was that back there?"

Mickey tore his arm from Ian's grasp and spun to face him. "Fuck off."

"What's wrong?" Ian exclaimed, his eyes searching Mickey's face. "What did I do? I thought we were havin' a good day today? We had a good day!"

Mickey scoffed at that.

Ian felt like he'd been kicked in the gut by his reaction. "What, am I… am I wrong about that?"

"Yeah! You are!"

"Mickey…"

"Just stop, alright?" Mickey retorted. "Fuckin' stop!"

Ian was completely taken aback by Mickey's outburst. "Stop what? What am I doing? Tell me what I'm doing!"

"Stop lookin' at me like that!"

Ian frowned. "Like what? I wasn't—"

"Don't play fuckin' dumb with me, asshole," Mickey snapped. "You know 'like what'."

"No, I—I don't know like what!" Ian stammered. "I—"

"Like you wanna jump my fuckin' bones any chance you can get!" Mickey exclaimed. "Stop lookin' at me like that! Every time I look at you, you're fuckin' lookin' at me, and it has to fuckin' stop."

Ian opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. He wanted to argue that Mickey had been looking at him, too. He wanted to argue that he hadn't been looking at Mickey all day, that his ex was only imagining things, but he knew it would be futile. There was no point in denying it. He already knew that Mickey could see right through him.

He ran a hand over his hair before finally saying, "You think I wanna keep lookin' at you? No, I don't, but I… I can't help it, alright?"

"Well, you better start fuckin' helping it," Mickey spat as he began to pace. "I can't fuckin' concentrate on anything when you look at me like that."

"Look, I don't—" Ian began. "I don't mean anything by it, alright? I just… I like lookin' at you. I've always liked lookin' at you. Just because you're engaged, what? That means I can't look at you anymore?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what it fuckin' means!"

"Mickey—"

"The fuck happened to us bein' friends?" Mickey snapped, still pacing.

Ian sighed, knowing it was useless to try to placate Mickey while he was on a roll. "We are friends, Mickey."

"You don't look at me like I'm your fuckin' friend."

"You can't tell me how I can look at you," Ian said, smiling a little. He then sighed again when he saw Mickey wasn't in a joking mood. "Will you stop pacing? It's not a big deal. Look, I'll stop lookin' at you if it'll make you feel better, alright?"

Mickey finally stopped pacing and turned to face him. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face. "Fuck."

Ian shrugged and watched him, waiting.

"I still like lookin' at your stupid ass, too, alright?" Mickey admitted after a beat, looking as if he hated every second of the conversation. "Even though I don't fuckin' want to—even though I know I fuckin' shouldn't—I can't seem to stop, either."

"Okay? So we're friends who like to look at each other," Ian said, his heart racing in his chest as Mickey's words finally registered. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"No, there's a lot wrong with that!" Mickey snapped.

"Mickey—"

"Look, I'm glad you're here, and I like that we can be friends after everything that happened, and we had a good day today, but it has to stop, alright? Stop lookin' at me. Stop with the flirting, and the secret looks, and the stupid fuckin' jokes. Just stop. It'll be better for everyone if you do, fuckin' trust me."

Ian watched, hurt and confused, as Mickey roughly brushed past him to head back to the party.

* * *

The next morning, Ian decided to feed Mia her breakfast outside on the deck. For once, no one else was using the space, and he wanted to take full advantage of the opportunity. With the peaceful quiet surrounding him, and the beautiful lake serving as the backdrop, it was exactly what he needed to get his jumbled thoughts in order.

All morning he had kept to himself, ignoring Mickey as much as he could even though he was completely aware of Mickey's presence at all times. He figured it was best to stay out of his ex's way for the rest of the week. He didn't want to make anything more complicated for him. Mickey wanted him to stop looking at him, wanted him to stop with the flirting, so he was going to distance himself from him as much as he could. Mickey had been right; it was better that way. For everyone.

Miranda suddenly appeared at the sliding doors, breaking Ian from his reverie.

"Hey, there you are! A bunch of us were thinking about heading out on my parents' boat for a few hours," she said, smiling as she watched Ian and Mia interacting. "I thought maybe you'd like to join us? Thought you'd wanna get outta the cabin for a little while. It'll be fun."

Ian sighed, deciding to get it over with. He had to let her know that there was no chance in hell for them. She didn't seem to get the memo that he wasn't interested, if the lingering looks and smiles she kept throwing his way the day before at the games were anything to go by.

"Look, Miranda," he tentatively began. The whole thing felt vaguely reminiscent of the time he had to turn down an adoring, fifteen-year-old Mandy. "You're a nice girl, but this isn't gonna happen."

Miranda's smile only grew wider as he spoke.

"It's not happening," Ian reiterated, not sure if she was getting where he was going. "I'm not some sorta conquest, okay? It's not a challenge to, like, get with me."

Miranda shook her head and laughed. "You're so cute."

Ian sighed. "I'm not—"

"Relax. I don't want to get with you," she interrupted. "I mean, I did at first, but… I know you're gay. I was simply just asking if you wanted to come out on the boat with us." She then raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "I'm being nice."

Ian frowned, feeling like a major asshole suddenly. "Oh."

"So?"

"Yeah," he said, thinking it might be a good idea to get out of the cabin for a little while, to give Mickey some space. He needed space, too, if he was being honest. He knew if he didn't get some sort of grip on things soon that he would end up spiraling, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. "I can come. A day out on a boat sounds fun."

Miranda grinned. "Good! We're leaving at noon. Be ready. Don't forget your sunscreen."

As she turned to walk away, Ian asked, "Hey, am I that obvious?" When she turned to give him a questioning look, he elaborated. "Is it that obvious that I'm gay?"

"No," she said, shrugging. "Not at first. I just thought you were playing hard to get. Mickey cornered me earlier, told me you were gay. He said I should probably back off."

Ian was left a little dumbfounded after Miranda walked away. He quickly shook himself from any thoughts of Mickey and went back to feeding Mia her applesauce.

Just because Mickey told Miranda to back off, that meant nothing. He was probably only looking out for his fiancé's sister, no other reason.

* * *

When Ian bounded down the steps slightly before noon to meet up with everyone leaving for the boat, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Mason and Mickey standing among the excited group.

Mason was whispering something to a smiling Mickey, a hand placed on the small of his back.

Ian swallowed back his jealousy and turned away from the couple. He was such a fucking idiot. Of course, Mickey and Mason would be joining them on the boat. It was their fucking wedding week.

Mickey's smile instantly slipped off his face when he noticed Ian standing there. He laughed sardonically, shook his head, and looked away. "Of course," he muttered under his breath, but Ian still heard him.

Ian hated the fact that Mickey didn't seem to want him around all of a sudden. It hurt more considering he'd had so much fun hanging out with Mickey the day before only to learn that Mickey hadn't felt the same and wanted him to back off.

When Mason was distracted by one of his chatty cousins, Ian walked up to his ex, his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his board shorts. He needed to make things right. He knew what he had to do to make that happen.

"Hey, Mick."

"Hey," Mickey grumbled, dipping his head and scratching the corner of his mouth.

Ian watched him, wishing he knew what to do to get Mickey to smile at him again. "I, um, I don't have to come out on the boat if you don't want me to."

"It's whatever, Gallagher," Mickey retorted with a shrug and a sniff. "Not a big deal."

"Miranda invited me at the last minute," Ian elaborated, wanting to clarify that it wasn't a big deal for him not to come. He was giving Mickey the option to tell him to stay back. "I don't have to come. I can just stay here and chill on the beach with Mandy and the baby all day."

"I said it's not a big deal," Mickey snapped, pulling his sunglasses from the top of his head to sit on the bridge of his nose. "Stop makin' shit weird, alright?"

"Yeah. Got it," Ian snapped, nodding curtly. "Won't happen again. I'll leave you alone."

He pursed his lips, wanting to ask Mickey exactly how he was making shit weird, but he refrained since Mickey's fiancé was standing three feet away. He put his own sunglasses on and walked away from him, unaware that Mickey's shielded eyes were watching him as he went.

* * *

Once the twelve of them were on the boat a half an hour later, which was actually a thirty-foot luxury yacht, Ian decided to take full advantage of the situation and was intent on ignoring Mickey and enjoying himself. It wasn't every day he was on a fancy boat in the middle of Lake Erie on a beautiful summer day. As he sat by himself near the back of the boat, he tilted his head back and relished the feeling of the warm sun on his face.

A few times he heard Mickey's laughter over the sound of the water lapping at the side of the boat, but he tried with everything in him to ignore that, too. He didn't want to think about Mickey and Mason hanging out at the front of the boat, or what it was that was causing Mickey to laugh so much.

It was none of his business.

"Hey, handsome."

Ian opened his eyes, realizing he must have dozed off for a bit. He could already feel his face getting tight with sunburn. Great.

Miranda was standing over him, a bottle of water in her outstretched hand. "You want a drink?"

"Yeah, thanks," Ian said, taking the water and guzzling most of it in three gulps. Without meaning to, he caught sight of Mickey and Mason sitting a few yards away, both lost in conversation.

"They're cute, aren't they?" Miranda asked as she sat down next to him.

Ian scoffed a little before remembering Miranda was Mason's sister. "Yeah," he forced himself to say after a beat, trying to keep the venom from his tone. "They're adorable."

"At first, I didn't get it," she continued, unaware of the fact that Ian would rather talk about anything else. "I didn't see what my brother saw in him. Mickey isn't my brother's usual type, like, at all. He usually goes for taller, clean-cut guys. It all happened so fast, too. I never even met the guy before, and suddenly they're getting married? I thought immediately that he was making a huge mistake. I was wrong, though. So wrong. Mickey's great, and my brother adores him."

Ian pursed his lips, not wanting to let on that the last thing he wanted to think about was how happy Mickey made Mason. He also couldn't help but find it weird that Miranda hadn't met Mickey prior to the couple announcing their engagement. Something seemed off about it all. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Miranda sipped her water before asking, "Am I wrong in assuming that you and Mickey used to be a thing?"

The question threw Ian for a loop, and he had no idea how to answer it. Talking to Mason's sister about Mickey was the last thing he knew he should do. He knew Mickey wouldn't approve of it.

"It was a long time ago," he finally settled on, his eyes still focused on a laughing, unaware Mickey. "We were a couple of dumb kids back then. We just fooled around. It, uh, it was never anything serious," he finished, knowing the words were lies even as they left his mouth. It had been serious, at least for him.

"I can tell you two used to be a thing," Miranda said. "I can see the chemistry. Especially yesterday while you two were matched up for the games. It's still there."

Ian tore his eyes away from his ex and looked down at his water bottle.

"You still care about him, don't you?"

Ian opened his mouth to lie, but he was interrupted.

"I can see that you do," she said.

"Look, I don't think—"

"You're not gonna be a problem for my brother, are you?"

"What?" Ian asked, his eyes darting up to meet hers. For the first time since he'd met her, Miranda wasn't smiling at him. "No. No, I'm not gonna be a problem for him. Mickey and I… we're just friends. He doesn't—he doesn't see me like that anymore. I don't think he's ever seen me like that, not really. We were—he never felt that way about me."

"I hope not," Miranda said, looking away from him to look at Mickey and her brother. "The last thing I want is for my brother to be blindsided and hurt. Mason really cares about him."

"Mickey cares about him, too," Ian muttered, the words hurting as they left his mouth. It had to be true. Mickey cared about Mason. Why else would he be so adamant about Ian backing off? He didn't know. All he knew for sure was that he was done with the conversation.

Miranda hummed and hesitated for a few seconds before standing up. She walked away to join a few of her family members standing a couple of yards away.

Ian was left behind, dumbfounded and confused. He looked in Mickey's direction one last time before turning away, swallowing the bitter lump in his throat as Mickey once again ignored him.

* * *

About an hour later, Ian was ready to get off the fucking boat.

With Miranda's words still ringing in his ears, and Mason and Mickey's constant laughter taunting him, he was ready to head back to the cabin and lock himself in his room. Maybe he'd even cut the week short and catch the earliest Greyhound back to Chicago where he belonged.

Just as he was thinking about jumping overboard and swimming the mile or two back to shore, he heard a gasp followed by a loud splash.

"Mickey!" Mason yelled. "Fuck! He's drunk! He can't swim!"

Before anyone else could even think to do anything, Ian kicked into action and hopped over the side of the moving boat and into the water. After resurfacing and panicking for a split-second, he spotted Mickey thrashing about a few yards away and swam to him. He grabbed Mickey's arm and pulled him close to his chest. With his free arm, he trod the water, struggling a little to keep them both afloat.

"Relax, Mickey! I got you! Stop panicking, or you're gonna take us both under!" he exclaimed. "Listen to me. Calm down!" His heart melted a little when Mickey finally clung to him for dear life and tucked his face into his neck. "I got you. Just trust me, alright? Do you trust me?"

"Fuck you," Mickey grumbled against Ian's skin as he finally began to calm down. "Trust you 'bout as far as I can fuckin' throw you."

"There he is."

"Asshole."

Ian grinned against Mickey's wet hair. "Well, fuck. Here I am savin' your life and that's the thanks I get?" He closed his eyes, trying to wrap his head around the last minute or so. Everything had happened so fast, and his heart thundered in his chest.

Mickey wrapped his arms tighter around Ian, not saying anything to that. He exhaled unsteadily against Ian's neck.

Ian closed his eyes, willing himself not to react to Mickey's proximity.

"Fuck," Mickey muttered, tightening his legs around Ian's waist. "You sure you got me? Don't let me go."

"I won't let you go. I promise," Ian mumbled against Mickey's wet shoulder. "Just stay still and hold on to me tight. The boat is heading back."

"This is so fuckin' embarrassing."

"Nothin' to be embarrassed about," Ian assured him, holding him closer as he watched the boat drift closer to them. He wanted to keep the conversation going, wanted to keep Mickey as calm as possible. "I didn't know you couldn't swim."

"Yeah, well, now you do."

"Maybe I can teach you how to swim sometime?" Ian murmured. "I can use my family's old pool. I can get you some of those arm floaties."

"Fuck off."

Ian smiled and rested his chin atop Mickey's head.

Mickey trembled, burrowed his face deeper against Ian's neck, and let out a shuddering breath.

"Sure you're not gonna need CPR?" Ian joked breathlessly as he used all his remaining energy to stay above water. "I've been told by a few people that I'm really good at mouth-to-mouth stuff."

Mickey huffed a laugh against Ian's skin. "You're a dick."

Ian swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, deciding to cut the bullshit and concentrate on keeping them afloat. Seconds later, several hands reached down to help them up onto the boat.

Shortly after, they were out of the water and wrapped in beach towels. As everyone crowded around Mickey to make sure he was okay, their eyes caught and lingered over a kneeling Mason's shoulder.

Ian was the first to look away, that time.

* * *

Later that evening, after they returned to shore and everyone had finally calmed down from the days' events, Ian decided to take a walk down to the lake, eager for some alone time. He stared out at the dark water as he consumed the beer he'd brought down with him, his mind full of thoughts he couldn't shake.

He couldn't stop thinking about how carefree Mickey had looked on the boat that day. He couldn't stop thinking about the way Mickey had desperately clung to him in the water. How feeling Mickey's rapid heartbeat against his skin had sent his own heart racing.

He couldn't stop thinking about the weird conversation he'd had with Miranda.

It was getting harder by the day to sit back and watch Mickey be with someone else. He knew what he had to do. He had to leave. He should have left days ago before things had gotten complicated. He didn't know what he'd been thinking. How did he ever think he could be around Mickey again and not feel things? Not feel everything?

What he said to Miranda had been true; he wasn't there to cause trouble or make things harder for Mickey. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd already made his life harder than it had to be in the past. He wasn't going to be selfish with Mickey ever again. So he had to leave.

"Ey, you alright?" a voice called out. "You keep disappearing on us."

Ian looked over his shoulder to find Mickey standing behind him. He wore a white t-shirt and khaki pants rolled up at the ankles. His hair was windswept, and his cheeks were slightly rosy from being out in the sun that day. He looked beautiful.

"Yeah," he lied, standing up and dusting the sand off his ass. "Just needed to take a minute to get my head on straight. Needed to sort through some things."

Mickey nodded. "I get that."

"We had a pretty eventful day, huh?"

Mickey laughed a little, his eyebrows raised. "Yeah, you can fuckin' say that again." He then locked eyes with Ian and cleared his throat before saying, "Thanks. For what you did for me back there. I didn't get a chance to say that earlier with everyone hoverin' over me."

"You don't have to thank me for that, Mick," Ian said, shoving his hands into his pockets and shrugging, feigning nonchalance. "I did what I had to do. I did what anyone would do."

Mickey dropped his eyes and scratched the side of his mouth. "Yeah, well, no one else jumped into the fuckin' water to save me."

"Savin' people is my job," Ian muttered, trying to downplay the situation. He didn't want to make things any more awkward or complicated than they had to be. "I reacted on instinct."

A weird look crossed Mickey's face, and he nodded before looking down at his bare feet in the sand. "Right."

Ian averted his eyes and pursed his lips, wanting to ask him why his fiancé hadn't jumped in to save him, but he kept that to himself. He was trying to be mature about it all, even though the thought kept nagging at him. He couldn't think of any possible reason why Mason wouldn't jump in to save Mickey. Even if he couldn't swim, Ian would have still jumped in with him. He wanted to know Mason's excuse.

Mickey reached up and scratched his temple as an awkward silence ensued. "Uh, Mandy was lookin' for you, says she thinks the baby is ready for bed. Guess she's fussin' for ya."

Ian nodded with his eyes still focused on the sand. "Okay, yeah. Tell her I'll be up in a minute."

"Alright," Mickey said with a nod. He hesitated a little, almost as if he wanted to say something else—something important—before finally turning to go.

Ian looked out towards the lake and before Mickey could get too far, he blurted, "It's not fair."

It was quiet for a beat before Mickey responded, "What's not fair?"

"All of it. You gettin' married," Ian intoned, turning to face him. He knew he was being selfish, and he knew he should stop talking, but he took a deep, steadying breath before continuing, "I had to push for you to even kiss me back when we were kids. I had to be your dirty secret for years. You'd freak out when I tried to hold your hand during sex. Now you're kissing a guy in public. You're laughing and joking and holding hands with the guy on his family's boat with no reservations."

Mickey's eyebrows shot up his forehead as he stared back at Ian, looking completely taken aback by his words.

Ian sighed and ran a hand over his unruly hair before averting his eyes to the sand. So much for him not making shit complicated, but he couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. He didn't know if he'd get the chance to say them again. "It's not fair."

"You're drunk," Mickey said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You're talkin' bullshit right now."

"It's not bullshit."

Mickey began backing away. "We'll talk tomorrow when you're sober."

Ian took three long strides and got in his face. "I may be drunk, but I still know what the fuck I'm saying, Mickey."

Mickey bit his lower lip and arched his brows. "You really wanna start this shit right now?"

"Yeah, I really wanna start this shit right now," Ian retorted, stepping closer into Mickey's personal space until Mickey had no choice but to look up at him. "Let's cut the bullshit and kumbaya crap."

"Okay," Mickey snapped, nodding. "You wanna throw a fuckin' tantrum, I'll bite."

"I'm not throwin' a fuckin' tantrum," Ian exclaimed. "I wanna talk about the shit that happened between us back then. I wanna stop pretending we're fuckin' alright and over it all!"

Mickey shrugged. "I am over it."

"Yeah, well, I'm not!" Ian yelled in a shaky tone. "I'm not fuckin' over it, Mickey!"

"Ian," Mickey said after a beat, his tone calm as he stared back at him intently. "We were practically kids. You more than anyone should know how the fuck my dad was! Sorry I wouldn't hold your hand and skip down the fuckin' street with you. What's not fair is you throwin' any of that shit in my face right now."

Ian grasped the front of Mickey's shirt with both hands and pulled him closer. Their ragged breaths mingled in the small space that separated them. He touched his forehead to Mickey's and closed his eyes. "I know," he breathed. "I fuckin' know all that, alright? It's still not fair."

"Nothing was fuckin' fair," Mickey muttered. "For either of us."

"We never got a fair shot," Ian murmured, his hands still gripping Mickey's shirt. "Now it's too late."

Mickey let out a low, steady exhale and nodded slightly, his forehead still pressed against Ian's.

"Have I ever told you how much I hate your dad?"

Mickey snorted and reached up to grip Ian's upper arms. "Not nearly as much as I fuckin' do, trust me."

Ian sniffed and nodded his head twice against Mickey's forehead before reluctantly stepping away, causing Mickey's hands to drag down his arms. He'd crossed a major line and knew he had to back off. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten in your face like that."

"You're drunk," Mickey murmured, sniffing. "It's cool."

"Will you stop sayin' that?" Ian retorted, looking Mickey directly in the eye. "I'm not that drunk. No amount of drinking in the world could make me forget any of what happened back then between us."

"Yeah," Mickey said. "I know what you mean." Their eyes met and held, the air thick around them.

"Mick," Ian started, swallowing visibly and stepping closer again. "I—"

"There you are," a voice called out, interrupting what Ian had been about to say. "I've been lookin' all over the place for you."

Ian and Mickey turned to find Mason standing behind them, looking displeased about the fact that they were standing alone by the water's edge, having a secret, heated conversation.

"What's going on?"

"We were just talkin'," Mickey said, scratching the corner of his mouth, his eyes downcast.

"Yeah, I can see that," Mason said, his eyes moving between the two men accusingly. "Sounded pretty intense from where I was standing. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Mickey snapped, eyebrows high, his jaw shifting back and forth.

"You sure?" Mason pressed. "You don't look okay."

"I'm gonna go grab a beer," Mickey grumbled before brushing past Mason to head up to the cabin.

Ian watched after him before dropping his gaze to the sand. He rubbed harshly at his eyes until he saw stars. He was a fucking idiot. He needed a filter for his goddamn mouth. Every time he and Mickey took one step forward, he found a way to push them two steps back.

Maybe he hadn't changed at all.

"What were the two of you talkin' about?" Mason asked to fill the tense silence.

Ian sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "Like he said, it wasn't important."

"Looked pretty important to me," Mason said. "I'm just curious what you and Mickey could have to talk about that I can't know about."

"Look, just promise me something, alright?" Ian said, cutting to the chase. He was irritated with Mason even though he knew deep down that the other man had every right to be curious.

Mason shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis and waited for him to continue.

"Don't—" Ian started before stopping to consider his words. "Don't take him for granted, okay?"

Mason stared back at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

"If you love him, make sure he… make sure he knows it, alright?" he continued. "Every fuckin' day."

Mason visibly swallowed and remained silent.

"You'll fuckin' regret it if you don't. I promise you," he finished, suddenly feeling exhausted. He rubbed at his eyes again and sighed before moving to walk past Mason.

Mason turned and watched after him, a frown on his face.

* * *

The next afternoon, Ian, Mia, and Mandy were hanging out on the beach.

Ian was keeping his distance from Mickey and was intent on spending the entire day relaxing in the sand with his best friend and niece. If he caught Mason giving him dirty looks now and then, he didn't mention it. He figured he deserved the cold shoulder for how he'd acted.

He thought back to the night before on the beach, feeling like a huge asshole for putting Mickey on the spot like he had and for saying the shit he'd said to Mason. Telling Mason not to take Mickey for granted? Who the fuck did he think he was? He was only a past fling to Mickey. Mason was the fiancé. Mason was Mickey's future. He would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised Mason hadn't kicked his ass out of the cabin.

"I would ask if you're okay, but I don't want you biting my head off again," Mandy said as she looked at him, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

"I'm okay," he said as he tickled Mia, doing everything he could to distract himself from looking in Mickey's direction.

"You and Mickey doin' okay?" Mandy asked. "He hasn't said a word to you all morning. Hasn't looked over here once. I figured since you saved his life yesterday that he'd wanna hang out with you today. Or I at least thought he'd show some appreciation."

Ian sighed. "Stop makin' that such a big deal, alright? He fell into the water and panicked. I jumped in to get him." He was aware that he was downplaying the entire situation. No one else needed to know how fucking terrified he'd been about the whole thing. "What else was I supposed to do?"

Mandy shrugged. "Yeah, well… no one else jumped in to save him."

"Yeah, about that," he said with narrowed eyes before he could stop himself. "Does anyone else not think it's fuckin' weird that the guy who's marrying Mickey in two days—the guy who's supposed to be in love him—didn't bother jumpin' in to save him?"

"I heard you didn't even give him a chance to," she answered, smiling a little. "Mason's cousin, Keith, said he'd never seen someone look so scared before in his life. He said he'd never seen someone move so fast. He said you reacted in a split-second."

Ian shrugged and looked down at Mia who was looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

"You still care about him, don't you?"

"Mandy," Ian sighed, still looking down at his niece. "Don't start with that shit."

"It's obvious," she said, her tone sad. "You care about him."

After some hesitation, he shrugged and muttered, "It doesn't matter how I feel about him."

"I'm sorry for bringin' you here," Mandy said after a beat, resting a hand on his knee and squeezing it. "If I woulda known all those feelings were gonna resurface, I never would have asked you to come with me. I wouldn't—"

"It's okay," Ian interjected, finally looking up at her with a small, forced smile. "Two days from now, Mickey will be married and on his way to his honeymoon, and I'll be headin' back to Chicago. I'll get over it. What other choice do I have? I'm the one who messed things up between us, and I'm the one who has to live with it."

He looked back down to smile at Mia, unaware of the sad look Mandy was giving him.

* * *

A little while later, Ian headed up the back stairs to his and Mandy's guest room intent on taking a long, cool shower to wash the sand from his body. He had sand in crevices he didn't even realize he had, which was odd because he was usually pretty aware of his crevices.

He cursed his shitty luck when he nearly walked headfirst into Mickey at the top of the steps. Thirty other people at the cabin and Mickey just happened to be the one person coming down the stairs. Fate was fucking with him, he knew it.

Mickey's eyes dropped to Ian's bare chest for a split-second before he glanced away. "Sorry," he grumbled before moving to walk around him to continue down the steps.

Ian sighed and continued on his way before stopping and turning to look down at the back of Mickey's head. He hated the awkwardness between them and found himself needing to rectify it even though he knew it was probably best if he said nothing.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry."

Mickey halted on the bottom step before turning to look up at him. He tongued the inside of his left cheek before lifting his brows in question.

"I'm sorry about last night," Ian continued. "I shouldn't have said the shit I said to you. I shouldn't have brought up all that bullshit from the past. You were right. I was drunk, and it was out of line."

"It needed to be fuckin' said, though, right?" Mickey said after a beat, shrugging. "You were the one who was right. We couldn't keep sweepin' that shit under the rug. It happened, it was shitty, and we needed to deal with it."

"None of it matters anymore, right?" Ian answered. "You're gettin' married in a couple of days, and there was no reason I needed to bring all that up now. Not this week. Not with your fiancé around." He swallowed thickly before adding, "We went seven years without sayin' it. It coulda waited. I'm sorry."

Mickey sighed, nodded, and rubbed a hand down his face.

"I didn't fuck things up between you and Mason, did I?"

A part of Ian—the selfish part that still wanted Mickey—hoped that maybe he had caused a rift between them. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly hating that part of himself. The fuck kind of person was he? Mickey was finally free and open to be himself. He was marrying someone in two days, and there Ian was secretly hoping that he'd caused trouble between them.

"Nah, we're cool," Mickey assured him, moving to sit on the step in front of him. "He'll get over it."

Ian took that as an invitation to sit, too, and walked down a half-dozen steps until he was sitting two steps behind Mickey. He rested the side of his head against the banister and waited for Mickey to continue.

"He knows me and you got unresolved shit between us," Mickey went on. "I guess he didn't expect you to wanna rehash it all at his parents' cabin three days before we got hitched."

Ian let out an unsteady breath and rubbed harshly at his eyes. He then laughed mirthlessly. "Jesus. I'm such a fuckin' mess."

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey said, chortling. "What the fuck else is new?"

Ian smiled a little at that and watched as Mickey turned on the step so he was half-facing him. A weird silence ensued before he spoke again. "If Lip was here right now, he'd probably slap me upside the head. He'd tell me to stop houndin' you, get a fuckin' grip, and go get laid."

Mickey barked out a laugh. "Yeah, that sounds like something he woulda said."

Ian laughed, too, and looked down at his hands that were clasped between his knees. His laughter subsided, and he bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling. He wasn't going to cry, not in front of Mickey. He'd had to deal with enough of Ian's bullshit throughout the week; he shouldn't have to deal with his tears.

"I fuckin' miss him," Ian said. "So much. It still doesn't feel real that he's gone. I, uh, keep thinkin' it's all just a sick fuckin' joke. That I did something to piss him off or something, and any day he'll show up with that shit-eating grin on his face and tell me none of it was real."

Mickey stared back at him, silent, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gave Ian the time and space to continue.

"Some days it's hard to fuckin' breathe, you know?" Ian continued in a shaky tone. "Some days I want to just give up. I get so fuckin' overwhelmed, by everything. I want to make him proud, I wanna be good for Mia, give her a good life, as good of a life as I can give her, but sometimes I can't—Sometimes I feel like, no matter how hard I try to be happy, something is missing. Like I can't get ever there. I—" He stopped talking, knowing he wasn't making any sense. Without meaning to, he allowed a few tears to fall. He angrily wiped at his cheeks. "Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with me?" He shot to his feet. "Why can't I shut my goddamn mouth?"

Mickey immediately stood, grabbing Ian's elbow to stop him from turning and walking up the steps. "Hey! Ian…"

"Why can't I stop fuckin' talking?" Ian spat, pulling his arm from Mickey's grasp. "Ever? I'm so fuckin' stupid. You don't care about my stupid shit. Why the hell would you?"

"C'mere…" Mickey grabbed Ian's arm again, once again stopping him from leaving. "Look at me."

Ian's shoulders slumped as he turned, suddenly finding himself eye level with Mickey on the stairs.

"Stop," Mickey said, his voice soft as his eyes darted between Ian's. His hand still gripped Ian's arm at the elbow, his thumb softly brushed against Ian's skin under the sleeve of his shirt. "You're alright."

"I'm really not," Ian murmured, his eyes dropping to Mickey's lips. "I'm not alright, Mick."

Mickey stared back at him before sighing and closing his eyes. He dropped his head and leaned forward, pressing the top of his head against the middle of Ian's chest. He let out a deep exhale through his nose. "Fuck…"

Ian gently pulled his arm from Mickey's grasp and tentatively reached his hands up, pressing his thumbs against the hinges of Mickey's jaw and tilting his head back so that Mickey had no choice but to look up at him.

Mickey stared back at him, swallowing visibly.

Ian gently caressed Mickey's cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his heart thundering in his chest. He was pretty sure Mickey could probably hear it… or at least see it beating through his shirt.

"The fuck are we doing, Ian?" Mickey muttered after a few moments of intense eye contact, his voice thick.

"Being fuckin' dumbasses, that's what we're doing," Ian said, his eyes dropping to Mickey's mouth. He swallowed thickly before saying, "I should walk away right now, shouldn't I?"

Mickey nodded minutely. "Yeah. Probably a good idea."

Ian lifted his eyes to meet Mickey's again, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the way Mickey was looking at him. It almost looked as if he wanted Ian to lean in and kiss him.

Reality finally set in when he heard distant laughter coming from outside, and he remembered where he was. Remembered Mickey wasn't his. His hands dropped from Mickey's face. Reluctantly, he backed up onto the step behind him, putting some much-needed distance between them.

Mickey reached out, gently tugging the hem of Ian's shirt as their eyes remained locked. "Ian."

Ian swallowed hard, waiting. He looked down and watched in captivation as Mickey's fingers delicately toyed with his shirt. "Yeah?"

Mickey hesitated before saying, "There's something I gotta tell—"

"Oh, there you are, Mickey!" a voice called out, interrupting him.

Mickey turned to find Mason's mom standing behind them, a smile on her face. She looked none the wiser to what had been happening on her stairs moments before.

"I want to take some group pictures," she said. "It's rare that we all get together like this. Can you join us out on the back deck? It won't take long, I promise."

Mickey cleared his throat, nodded, and, without looking back at Ian, followed Brenda towards the deck to where his fiancé, and his fiancé's entire family, waited.

Ian watched after him before slowly sitting down on the step behind him, his heart hammering miserably in his chest.

* * *

Later that evening, Ian carried Mia into the kitchen, intent on feeding her dinner before bathing her and putting her to bed. Setting her car seat on the counter, he made sure she was safe and secure before turning to Mia's designated cupboard by the fridge to retrieve a jar of mashed carrots.

"On tonight's menu, we have sweet baby carrots pureed to absolute perfection with a pinch of nutmeg," Ian explained to a babbling Mia in his best-distinguished voice. He added a chef's kiss for added effect before grinning.

Mia cooed and made grabby hands for the jar, apparently sick of her uncle's buffoonery.

As he opened the small jar of food, he craned his neck to look out through the sliding doors, watching as everyone lazily lounged around on the deck to enjoy the warm, fresh night air. A bonfire was crackling in the middle of the yard as everyone sat around laughing, drinking, and sharing stories.

He was the only one who had decided not to join the festivities. He figured it was better to sit the rest of the week out and keep to himself. He was going to focus solely on Mia and try to get through the rest of the week unscathed so he could return to Chicago on Sunday and go back to his regular, mundane, loveless life. He was done inserting himself in Mickey's business.

For real, that time.

He pulled out a stool and situated himself in front of Mia. He pushed the sleeves of his grey henley up before grabbing the small pink spoon and scooping up the orange mush. "Open up! Here comes the choo-choo train!" he made the appropriate noises as he pretended the spoon was a train heading for his niece's mouth.

Mia opened her tiny mouth and happily accepted the spoonful of food. She kicked her tiny socked feet in gratitude.

Ian laughed. "Yeah, that's good stuff, huh?" He grinned when she hummed happily before sticking her tongue out for more.

"Fuck, that shit smells awful. The hell are you feedin' the kid?"

Ian immediately tensed when he heard Mickey's voice behind him. He then straightened in his seat before turning his head to look at Mickey over his shoulder. Of course, his sexy-as-fuck, untouchable ex was walking around in nothing but a pair of low-slung swimming trunks.

That was his luck.

"Wanna watch the language in front of the kid, _a-hole_?" Ian joked, pretending he wasn't all that affected by his ex's presence.

Mickey snorted on his way to the fridge. "Sorry, _d-bag_. Won't happen again."

Ian smiled as Mickey grabbed a bottle of ketchup from the fridge. He watched as Mickey headed towards the sliding doors to head back outside without saying anything else. He wanted to ignore the disappointment he felt at that more than anything.

Before opening the door to leave, Mickey halted and turned around to glance at him, his brows raised. "You alright in here?"

"Yeah," Ian said, turning back to Mia, not wanting to engage in too much conversation. He was afraid he'd say some more shit that would get him in trouble. "Just feedin' Mia her dinner before headin' up to bed."

Mickey walked fully into the kitchen and leaned against the counter opposite Ian. He looked towards Mia. "Headin' to bed? Already? It's barely eight o'clock, man."

Ian watched as Mickey reached over and rubbed Mia's chubby cheek with his index knuckle. Mia cooed as she looked up at Mickey with curious eyes. The sight tugged at his heartstrings. He wished with everything in him that it didn't.

"I just feel like I should stay away from everyone, you know?" he answered as he mindlessly toyed with the jar of food in his hand. "Let you guys all do your thing, and I'll do mine. It's, uh, it's probably better that way."

Mickey clicked his tongue. He straightened up and looked Ian right in the eye. "Nah, man. You should come and hang out. We got dogs goin' on the grill. Mason's uncle Richie is telling us some fucked-up stories about the time he was in 'Nam. Some real gory shit, man. Stuff'll give ya nightmares."

Ian nodded and looked at Mia. As tempting as it was to spend more time with Mickey, he knew it was for the best if he didn't. After a beat, he said, "Sounds fun, but uh, I'm just gonna hang out with Mia in here for a bit. I'm tired, anyway." When Mickey looked at him with a smirk, he knew he needed a better excuse. "My meds are kickin' in. They make me woozy after a while."

"They make ya feel woozy, huh?" Mickey licked his bottom lip and nodded before reaching forward and taking the spoon from Ian's hand. He brought it to his nose and sniffed it. He made a face. "Shit really does smell foul."

Before Ian could say or do anything, Mickey brought the spoon back and flicked it towards Ian's face, causing orange mush to splatter across his chin and left cheek.

"The fuck, Mickey!"

Mickey laughed, devilishly stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, and dipped the spoon in the jar, preparing for his next attack.

Ian slipped off his stool and pointed at him, his expression menacing. "I'm serious, Mickey. Drop the spoon!"

"Oh, you're serious, huh?"

"Yeah!"

"How serious?"

"Uh, really serious!"

"Oh! That serious? Wow. Okay. What're you gonna do, tough guy?" Mickey asked, his eyebrows raised, and his grin playful. "Huh?"

"I'll kick your ass, that's what I'm gonna do," Ian said before taking a step towards his ex.

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey asked, right before slinging the spoonful of carrot at Ian again, getting it on the hollow of his neck, that time.

"You asshole," Ian exclaimed, moving as Mickey went for the jar again. He grabbed a laughing Mickey by the wrist and tried to wrestle the spoon out of his hand.

"What happened to not swearin' in front of the kid, huh!" Mickey turned in Ian's arms, his butt resting against Ian's crotch as they laughed and struggled to gain possession of the spoon.

The entire time they were playing, Mia watched them with wide, curious eyes, her mouth rimmed with the very substance Mickey had attacked Ian with.

Mickey eventually stopped struggling to catch his breath, his laughter dying on his lips when he realized the position they were in. He was wrapped in Ian's strong arms, his back pressed against Ian's chest. Ian's breath was warm and fast against the side of his neck. "Fuck…"

Ian dug his nose in the juncture of Mickey's shoulder, knowing he should let him go but not wanting to. He knew it was dangerous, knowing that anyone could walk in at any moment and catch them in the compromising position, but something stopped him from releasing Mickey.

"Fuck, you smell good." He nosed at Mickey's soft skin and felt his ex tremble a little in response. "You always smelled good. Hasn't changed."

"Gallagher," Mickey muttered after a bit, his tone unreadable. He exhaled through his nose and made no move to step away. He angled his head a bit to give Ian more room to nuzzle. He dropped the forgotten spoon, reached up, and placed his hands on Ian's toned forearms that were still wrapped around his waist. "Fuck… Ian…"

Ian sighed and breathed him in again, hearing Mickey's breath hitch. He trailed the tip of his nose to Mickey's ear and exhaled, causing his ex to let out a small moan.

"Ian," Mickey breathed. "We gotta stop."

Ian pressed his forehead against Mickey's shoulder and held him tighter.

"Ian," Mickey said again, his voice suddenly stern. "C'mon, man. We can't fuckin' do this. Mason's entire family is right outside those doors."

"Sorry," Ian muttered, finally allowing his arms to drop away from Mickey. He took a step back and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."

Mickey turned around and locked eyes with him. His eyes then dropped to take in the erection straining against the front of Ian's board shorts. He swallowed visibly and tongued the inside of his cheek.

"Shit," Ian muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. Once again, he felt the shift. One step forward, two steps back. He was such a fucking idiot.

Without another word, Mickey turned and headed outside, the ketchup bottle he'd come in for in the first place forgotten on the counter.

Ian sat down heavily on the stool and buried his face in his hands. He took a few deep breaths, trying to get his emotions (and his erection) in check. When Mia kicked and whined, wanting the rest of her dinner, he looked at her through bleary eyes and smiled.

"Your Uncle Ian is a major freaking idiot."

* * *

After bathing and putting Mia to bed, Ian realized there was no way he'd be able to fall asleep. His mind was still reeling after the sexy encounter he'd had with Mickey in the kitchen. As he lay in bed replaying every detail in his head on an endless loop, he heard faint laughter and music coming from outside. The party was still going on without him.

After almost an hour of tossing and turning, he finally gave up trying to sleep and got out of bed. After checking to make sure Mia was safe and sound, he threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and headed downstairs.

When he got to the back deck, he found that the party had scaled down a lot but was still going strong. Mickey, Mandy, Mason, and about ten of Mason's family members and friends were relaxing around the bonfire, a variety of alcoholic beverages clutched in each person's hand.

"Ian!" Mandy joyfully exclaimed when she spotted him, causing the rest of the party to turn and look at him.

Ian shoved his hands inside his pockets and briefly met Mickey's curious eyes before averting his gaze.

"Hey! So, you finally decided to stop bein' a party pooper and join us?" Mason asked before laughing and chugging his beer.

"Uh, yeah. Couldn't sleep," Ian said, suddenly feeling awkward being the center of attention. He regretted leaving the safety of his guest room. When Mason reached over to place his hand on Mickey's thigh, he regretted his decision even more.

"Grab a drink and come sit by me," Mandy said as she patted the empty chair next to her.

Ian could tell his best friend was on the verge of being plastered and knew she would be dealing with a hell of a hangover the next morning. He also knew it was a very real possibility that he'd have to hold her hair back while she puked later. The weekend had already been nostalgic enough; might as well throw that in too.

Still feeling all eyes on him, he headed for the nearest cooler and grabbed a cold beer, promising himself that he wouldn't have more than that.

He sat in the lawn chair next to Mandy and returned her smile, even though he didn't feel like smiling. He could still see Mason's hand on Mickey's thigh from the corner of his eye.

"So," one of Mason's aunts spoke up, pulling the attention away from Ian. "Tell us again how the two of you met."

"Fuck's sake," Mickey muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Do we need to?"

Mason grinned and squeezed Mickey's thigh. "Don't worry, babe. I'll tell the story."

Ian scoffed at the pet name and downed half of his beer, already ready for a second one.

"We met at a garage sale, of all places," Mason began, giving his fiancé another playful smile.

Mickey chugged his beer before averting his eyes and meeting Ian's gaze over the crackling fire.

Ian swallowed hard and looked away. The last thing he wanted to do was sit there and listen to how Mickey and Mason's love story began, but he figured it would seem weird if he left just as Mason started talking, so he miserably stayed in his seat.

As Mason began regaling how they'd met, Ian suddenly remembered something. He frowned and leaned closer to Mandy to whisper, "I thought you said they met at a bar?"

Mandy tossed Ian a look and shrugged. "I dunno, that's what Mickey told me. Maybe he got mixed up."

Ian sat back in his seat, bringing his beer bottle back up to his lips.

"I went to a random garage sale to see what kind of hidden treasures I could find, and I ended up finding the best treasure of all," Mason finished, giving Mickey's thigh another lingering squeeze.

Ian never wanted to break someone's hand so bad in his life.

"Did I ever tell you all about our first date?" Mason continued after the chorus of 'awws' died down. "How absolutely disastrous it was?"

Ian really fucking wished he hadn't come downstairs. He suddenly wished he had something stronger to drink; anything to numb the pain of having to sit there and listen to Mason describe their first date. He rubbed the back of his neck and uncomfortably shifted around in his seat.

"I got dressed to the nines. I made a reservation for Altius, the best restaurant in town. I went all out," Mason continued, laughing. "I was determined to impress him. This guy shows up wearing ratty jeans and a shirt with cut-off sleeves with a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. The first thing he says to the waiter is 'can I get a fuckin' ashtray over here?' Meanwhile, it was a non-smoking restaurant!"

Ian stared down at the beer bottle in his hand, a small smile playing on his lips as he pictured Mickey showing up for a fancy date dressed in raggy street clothing. He could only imagine the look on the waiter's face when he heard that potty mouth. The smile slipped off his face when he remembered he and Mickey never got a chance to go on a real date. They never would get the chance.

He lifted his eyes and found Mickey staring back at him. Mickey didn't look nearly as fond of the memory as his fiancé did.

Mason continued with his story, but Ian heard nothing he was saying.

"You okay?" Mandy leaned in to whisper.

Ian chugged more of his beer and nodded. He pursed his lips and hesitated before saying, "Mm-hm. Yeah."

"Fuckin' liar."

Ian looked over at Mandy and smiled faintly with a shrug. He then let the smile slip off his face when she reached over and squeezed his hand. He knew she wasn't buying the fake smiles anymore.

"The food was shitty, anyway," Mickey mumbled once Mason was done telling his story.

"Yeah, I heard from a few people that the food there leaves a lot to be desired," Mason's Uncle Richie chipped in. "Definitely not worth the price."

"What?" Mason exclaimed, finally removing his hand from Mickey's thigh to sit forward, staring at his uncle in overdramatic disbelief. He seemed to be a little drunk himself. "Anyone who dislikes Altius' food is a lunatic! They're definitely not right in the head." He then paused and looked directly at Ian. "Shit. I'm sorry. No offense, Ian."

Ian was taking a sip of his beer when Mason's words hit his ears. Slowly, he pulled the bottle away from his mouth and looked at Mickey's fiancé, who was staring back, smirking the slightest bit. He didn't look sorry. In fact, he looked smug, like he'd meant to say it. Embarrassment washed through Ian when the awkward silence continued.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Mickey snapped, breaking the silence and sending his fiancé a baleful look.

"What?" Mason said, looking back at Mickey with a frown. "I didn't mean to offend him. It slipped!"

Ian swallowed the thick lump in his throat when he thought about what it all meant. Mickey had obviously told Mason about his mental illness. He felt betrayed by that. And he felt hurt. He wasn't one to deny his illness—wasn't ashamed of it in most cases—but the fact that Mickey had dispensed that information so easily to someone else didn't sit too well with him.

"You're such an asshole," Mickey muttered.

Ian lifted his eyes from the ground and looked at Mickey, finding his ex looking back at him with an apologetic look on his face. He dropped his eyes again before nodding slightly and standing up. He needed to get the fuck out of there. "Uh, yeah. On that note, I'm gonna head to bed."

"I'm comin' with you," Mandy declared as she unsteadily stood up to link her arm through his. She was no longer giddy or laughing, obviously offended on her best friend's behalf.

After returning to his and Mandy's room, he helped Mandy into her pajamas and tucked her in, making her promise to wake him if she needed anything. He stayed in bed for two more hours listening to his best friend's soft snoring and still wasn't any closer to falling asleep.

Despite it being late at night, the temperature outside was still in the high 80s. He needed to take his mind off things, and he was hot and sweaty. A calm midnight dip in the cool lake sounded like perfection.

When he reached the beach a few minutes later, he halted when he noticed a lone figure sitting in the sand down by the water. He cursed his shitty luck once again.

Ian rubbed a hand down his face and contemplated turning around to head back to the cabin. Before his mind could catch up to what he was doing, he headed for the lake.

"Hey," he said, watching as Mickey jumped slightly and turned his head to look at him over his shoulder.

"Hey," Mickey said, looking surprised to see him standing there. "What are you doin' down here?"

"Came down for a midnight swim."

"Couldn't sleep," Mickey said when the silence dragged on. He tongued the inside of his cheek before asking, "You pissed at me?"

Ian shrugged. "Don't really feel like talkin' about it."

"Well, we fuckin' need to."

"There's nothin' to talk about," Ian assured him. "What you tell your fiancé has nothing to do with me. It's none of my business."

Mickey sighed and rubbed his mouth. "Look, will you stop bein' so fuckin' dramatic?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm goin' in the water to cool down," Ian retorted as he reached behind his head to tug his shirt off. When he looked back at his ex, he wasn't surprised to find him looking at his newly exposed skin. "If you wanna talk, that's where I'll be."

"You can't go in the water," Mickey said as he watched Ian toe out of his shoes. "It's probably cold, and it's dark out. It's not exactly fuckin' safe."

"I like it cold," Ian said once he was down to his boxer briefs, "and I'm only goin' in up to my waist." He turned and started heading for the water. "You comin' in or not?" he asked without looking back.

He heard his ex curse under his breath behind him.

Moments later, Mickey joined him in the water. "Can't believe I'm fuckin' doin' this," he muttered.

Ian dunked under the water to wet his hair and resurfaced a few seconds later to find Mickey in front of him. They were waist-deep in the water and only a few feet away from each other.

"So," Ian began as he pushed his wet hair away from his forehead. "You wanna talk? So talk."

"I don't know what to fuckin' say," Mickey said after a beat.

"Okay, I'll start," Ian began, shrugging coolly. "You obviously told him I'm crazy."

"I never fuckin' used those words," Mickey defended. "I never said you were crazy."

"But you told him about me, didn't you?" Ian accused. "Told him about my bipolar?"

"It wasn't like that, alright? I didn't say anything specific," Mickey said. "Just that you're sick. I wasn't, like, laughin' about it or any shit like that. I wouldn't fuckin' laugh about that."

"I get it, alright?" Ian said, sighing. "You tell him things. He's your guy. 'Course you're gonna tell him things."

"My guy?" Mickey repeated, his brows raised and the corner of his mouth quirked, looking as if that was the most ridiculous shit he'd ever heard. "Who the fuck says 'my guy'"

"He is, though, isn't he?" Ian said, lifting his eyes to meet Mickey's. Suddenly, neither of them were smiling. Before he could think about what he was doing, he waded closer to Mickey and stopped inches away from him. He stared down into his eyes and watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. His mind seemed to run slower than his body as he reached up to cup his wet hand against Mickey's face.

"Look," Mickey started, his eyes dropping to Ian's mouth. "He had no fuckin' right sayin' that shit to you. He's an asshole for that."

"He's right, though," Ian said, still softly stroking Mickey's cheek with his thumb. "I am crazy."

"No. You're not."

"Yeah," Ian murmured. "I am."

Mickey's eyes dropped to Ian's wet chest, and he gnawed on his lower lip. "You've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy, man," he muttered before flitting his gaze back up to Ian's face. "Fuck, look at you."

Ian raised his other hand and cupped Mickey's face with both hands.

Mickey reached out and placed his hands on Ian's hips, his thumbs slowly brushing against the toned skin right above the elastic band on his boxers.

Ian swallowed thickly and said, "I hated hearin' him talk about your first date."

Mickey clicked his tongue and opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted.

"This is kinda really fuckin' embarrassing, and I'm probably gonna regret sayin' it, but… I used to imagine takin' you out on dates when we were younger," Ian continued, a small smile playing on his lips, and his heart racing in his chest. "I knew you'd punch me in the mouth for even suggesting it, though."

"Yeah, probably," Mickey said, laughing. He then asked, "What did you imagine us doin'?"

"I dunno," Ian shrugged. "Maybe we coulda snuck into a Sox game. We woulda smuggled in some warm beers you stole from the Kash and Grab."

"Oh, that I stole?" Mickey retorted, his brows high. "Why do I gotta be the criminal, huh?"

"'Cause it's my fantasy."

"Fuck your fantasy."

"Are you really tryin' to argue that you never stole from the Kash and Grab before?" Ian asked with a smirk. "Mick, I'm hurt. That's how we met."

"Just fuckin' continue with your lame-ass fantasy, asshole."

Ian laughed before continuing, "We woulda ate the messiest hot dogs and heckled the players. Probably woulda been kicked out. Or we coulda snuck into a movie and fooled around in the back row." He grinned when Mickey's brows shot way up. He then shrugged. "Probably woulda gave you a handjob halfway through."

"I probably woulda fuckin' let you," Mickey said, his eyes dancing as he laughed.

"Bullshit!" Ian quipped. "No way you woulda let me give you a handy in a public place back then."

"We used to bang under the high school bleachers," Mickey argued, clicking his tongue.

"That's different."

"How the fuck is that different?"

Ian laughed. "I dunno, it just is."

Mickey barked out a laugh at that. "Ey, well… either way, I guess we'll never fuckin' know."

"No," Ian said, his smile slipping a little. "Guess we won't."

"Anyway," Mickey continued after a beat. "I kinda always thought we did go on dates. Never woulda fuckin' admitted that back then, though."

Ian quirked a brow, surprised by that. "What? When? Where the hell was I? I'm pretty sure I woulda remembered if we went on dates."

"You know, hangin' out for hours and smokin' in those abandoned buildings. Bangin' in the dugouts," Mickey said, shrugging and dropping his eyes. "That night at my house before shit went down… eatin' pizza rolls, watching Van Damme, and then fuckin' in my room."

Ian's heart was beating in his chest as he took in Mickey's words. "Wait… you considered those dates?"

"Yeah." Mickey shrugged again. "Fuckin' stupid, right?"

"No," Ian muttered, shaking his head. "It's not stupid."

Right then, at that moment, with that boy, in the lake with the moonlight illuminating the water surrounding them, Ian had never felt better. He swallowed thickly as he stared down into Mickey's eyes. He watched as the smile faded from Mickey's face as he stared back.

With his hands still cupping Mickey's face, he brought his thumbs to his ex's lips and lightly tugged his bottom lip down. He dropped his eyes to that beautiful mouth, wanting nothing more than to lean in and taste him.

"Mick…"

Mickey's breath hitched. He made no move to stop Ian from making his next move. Instead, he gripped Ian's hips tighter, his thumbs slightly dipping under the band of Ian's boxers.

Just as Ian was leaning down the last few inches to kiss him, a shrill voice interrupted them.

"Ahoy out there!"

"The fuck?" Mickey muttered as he frowned and pulled away.

They broke apart and looked up to find Mason's cousin, Tamara, clumsily making her way down the yard towards them. At the bonfire earlier, she'd been one of the more inebriated ones. Luckily for them, she made it a few more steps before stumbling to the side and passing out cold in the sand.

Ian turned his head to find Mickey staring back at him. After a few beats, both of their faces broke out into grins, and they laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

"You think she saw us?" Ian asked.

"I doubt it," Mickey said, scratching his eyebrow as he looked back at the passed-out woman. "I think all she saw was sand."

After their laughter died down, Mickey waded backward away from Ian, their eyes locked. "I'm gonna get outta the water now before I do something fuckin' stupid."

Ian swallowed hard, nodded, and watched as he continued to back away.

Mickey gave Ian's wet upper body one more appreciative glance before turning away.

While Mickey was scooping up his discarded clothes from the sand, Ian called out, "For the record, I woulda been okay with you showin' up to our first date in ratty jeans. And a shirt with cut-off sleeves? Fuck."

Mickey turned around and glanced at him, his sandy clothes clutched in his hand. He arched a brow and waited for him to continue.

"You coulda showed up naked for all I cared," Ian finished with a grin.

Mickey licked his bottom lip as he contemplated Ian's words. He then shook his head, grinned, and said, "Goodnight, Gallagher."

"Night, Mickey," Ian said, his words soft enough to go unheard. He continued watching Mickey walk away until he made it inside the cabin.

He groaned and immediately submerged himself underwater. He needed a cold shower after all that.

The lake was a suitable substitute.

* * *

"I still can't believe my brother is getting married tomorrow," Mandy said the next afternoon as she stood in front of the mirror to pile her hair on top of her head in a messy bun. "Mickey's gonna be someone's husband. So fuckin' weird."

Ian was sitting on their unmade queen-sized bed, wishing she would change the subject. The last thing he wanted to do was think about Mickey getting married, which was fucking ridiculous considering that was the whole purpose of the entire week.

He knew he should leave before the wedding. He knew that watching Mickey get married was going to kill him, but he couldn't get himself to go through with it. As easy as it would be to pack up his shit and take a Greyhound home, he couldn't do it. He almost had a sick need to watch Mickey go through with it. He needed to see that it was real. Then maybe he could finally move on.

He was going to try to, anyway.

Mandy exited the bathroom, tying a colorful sarong around her slim waist as she did so. "How are you feelin' about everything? We haven't really touched base in a couple of days."

Ian sighed, running a hand over his curls. "I don't really know. I'm feelin' a lot of things, I guess."

Mandy sat down next to him and patted his knee.

"You know Mickey better than anyone, right?" he began tentatively.

"Yeah, I guess," she said, shrugging. "I mean, I know as much as he wants me to know."

Ian knew what that was like. He nodded and pursed his lips before saying, "I'm gonna ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."

"When am I not honest with you?" Mandy asked, causing Ian to give her a pointed look. She rolled her eyes. "Besides this week."

Ian waited for a beat before asking, "Do you really think Mickey loves this guy?"

Mandy took in Ian's question and frowned a little. "I mean, he's marrying him. He has to love him, right? He wouldn't marry someone for no reason."

Ian nodded and looked down at his hands, feeling her eyes on the side of his face as she contemplated her next words.

"I mean, they're not real lovey-dovey or anything like that, but I don't expect my brother to be like that with anyone, anyway," she continued. "Who knows how they are together in private. Who am I to say how he really feels?"

Ian nodded again, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He'd already expected her to say those things, but it still hurt to hear. He knew he needed to hear it.

"Why?" Mandy asked, looking at him warily. "You're not thinkin' about doing anything stupid, are you?"

Ian looked at her and smiled a little at the worried look on her face. "What, you mean declaring my undying love for him and stopping his wedding?" When Mandy continued to stare at him without saying anything, he sighed. "No, I'm not planning on stopping his wedding, Mandy. I may have done some fucked-up shit in my life, but gimme a little more credit than that."

Mandy seemed to relax a little at that even though she still looked apprehensive.

"I guess I just need to know that if I'm not makin' a move, that it's for a good reason," Ian said without really thinking about what he was saying. He realized how shitty it sounded as it came out of his mouth. "That it's the right decision."

"You want my confirmation that my brother loves someone else?" Mandy asked after a beat. When Ian looked at her, his silence answering her question, she continued, "Yes, Ian. I think my brother loves him. He's marrying him. Tomorrow. I know it's hard, and I know what Mason said to you last night was fucked-up, but you need to let it go. You need to let Mickey go."

Ian bit his lip and tore his eyes away from Mandy's, his heart thumping dully in his chest, knowing she was right. Of course, she was right.

"I guess I just… this week, with him… I felt happy again, you know?" he said, his chest aching as he said the words. "I felt alive again. I haven't felt that way in a while."

Mandy looked at him, her eyes sad.

"Just sucks that it all happened too late," Ian continued. "Shoulda reached out to him years ago. Maybe things could have been different. I guess I'm always gonna have to wonder. About Mickey. About us."

Mandy smiled a little and squeezed his hand.

"You're right, though," he finally conceded. "I have to let him go. I came here to get closure, and that's what I'm gonna do. It's what I have to do."

"That's really mature of you, Ian," she said, giving his hand another squeeze before standing up. "I'm proud of you."

Ian watched as she turned to head towards her beach bag, the small, forced smile slipping from his face.

The last thing he wanted to do was let Mickey go just when they were starting to reconnect, but he had no other choice. He'd had a choice to make once before, and he had chosen wrong.

He had to learn how to live with that.

* * *

A little later that day, while Ian was relaxing on his beach towel, enjoying the quiet while Mandy played with Mia in the water, a voice startled him from his light slumber.

"Hi, I don't think we've formally met."

Ian opened his eyes to find a man standing over him, blocking the sun. He propped himself up on his elbows, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. "Uh. Yeah. Hi."

"I'm Tim," the man said. He looked to be around Ian's age. He wasn't exactly Ian's type—a little too blond, tall, and tan for his taste—but he couldn't deny that the man looked good shirtless. "I'm a good friend of Mason's. We went to Penn State together."

The man hadn't been around all week, Ian knew that much. He'd been one of the few late arrivals who had shown up that day to witness the wedding ceremony without partaking in any of the other planned activities. Judging by the way he was looking at him, he'd been itching to introduce himself to Ian.

"I'm Ian," he answered, still slightly confused by the whole situation. "I'm… an old friend of Mickey's."

Tim smiled at Ian before dropping his eyes to take in Ian's half-naked appearance. He seemed to like what he saw. "I don't mean to be so straightforward, but maybe I can get your number? I'd like to get to know you a little better. Mason said you're a nice guy. I don't come across too many nice guys these days."

Ian contemplated Tim's words before averting his eyes towards Mickey who was on the beach playing catch with Mason and a few of Mason's younger cousins.

Mickey was laughing jovially and didn't seem to give two shits about some guy hitting on him. Why would he? Even though he and Mickey had shared some intense moments over the past week, that didn't change the fact that he was marrying someone else the next day.

He allowed himself to feel disappointed for a few moments before finally looking back up at the man and nodding, his eyes squinting in the sun. "Yeah, okay. I'll give you my number."

Tim grinned and motioned towards the spot next to Ian. "Mind if I sit, keep you company?"

Ian hesitated for only a second before nodding, allowing him to sit. He was apprehensive about the entire thing—wasn't used to strange men approaching him out of nowhere—but he figured he needed to move on somehow. It wouldn't hurt to take the guy's number and see where things could go. Even if nothing came out of it at all, at least he was making some sort of attempt to move on. That had to count for something.

He didn't notice the way Mickey was watching them from behind his sunglasses a few minutes later when they went on to continue their amicable conversation. He didn't notice how Mickey scoffed and opted out of the game of catch, claiming he needed to take a piss, but really, he didn't want to stand around and watch Ian laugh with one of Mason's meathead frat buddies.

Ian also didn't know that Mason had practically pressured his friend to go over and ask for his number, figuring he needed to do something to keep his fiancé's ex out of his way until after the wedding.

* * *

That night, Mickey and Mason's rehearsal dinner slash celebration was in full swing, and Ian sat in a white folding chair in the corner of the tented event and watched it all go down miserably. He had a good buzz going, but even that was doing nothing to assuage his mood.

Everyone else seemed happy and in good spirits as they all celebrated the happy couple on the eve of their wedding day.

Mickey and Mason had kissed upon request more times than Ian could count. The half-dozen hors d'oeuvres he'd scarfed down throughout the evening threatened to come back up every time he was forced to watch them lock lips.

When everyone began doing the Cupid Shuffle, and Mickey and Mason kissed yet again, Ian decided it was time to escape for a much-needed smoke break. He realized then that he'd smoked more during that week than he had during the last year.

He nodded towards Mandy who was on the makeshift dance floor with Mia. She nodded back with a look of pity in her eyes to let him know she had the baby, and that he could sneak away for a few minutes.

He made his way to the outskirts of the tent, grabbing a flute of champagne from a nearby tray as he went. He'd already had a couple of shots earlier in the night and knew it was a bad idea to drink more. He downed the bubbly beverage in three long gulps, anyway, burping crudely as he passed a group of Mason's relatives who all gave him the stink-eye for his rudeness. He couldn't find it within himself to care.

Once he was a few dozen yards away from the party, he plopped down in the sand and looked out over the water. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. Instead, all he could hear were the faint sounds of 'Electric Boogie' playing and more obnoxious laughter. He rubbed his bleary eyes and let out a long, shaky breath.

How could everyone else be so fucking happy and joyful while he was feeling so fucking miserable and alone?

"Needed to get the fuck away, too, huh?"

Ian chuckled mirthlessly under his breath and didn't bother looking back at Mickey. Funny how Mickey always seemed to find him when he didn't want to be found.

"Yeah, you could say that," he uttered.

"Yeah, me too," Mickey said. After a beat, he asked, "You been drinkin'?"

"Only liquor, I promise."

Mickey clicked his tongue. "Shouldn't be drinkin' so much on your meds, man."

"No," Ian muttered, swallowing the thick lump in his throat. He wished Mickey didn't sound so sincere. He wished Mickey didn't care at all. It was only making shit harder for him. "Probably shouldn't."

He finally looked at Mickey over his shoulder, watching as the brunet gnawed on his bottom lip. "What d'you need to get away from? You're about to be a married man. You should be back there celebratin' with your new family."

Mickey tongued the inside of his cheek before retrieving a pack of smokes from his back pocket. He tapped a cigarette into his palm, lit it, and took a long drag before offering it to Ian with a quirked eyebrow.

Ian reluctantly took the cigarette, ignoring the spark he felt when their fingers touched. The spark he knew would always be there. The spark he had to forget about.

"Thanks," he said before taking a long, satisfying drag. He handed the Marlboro back to Mickey before asking, "What are you tryna get away from?" he asked again, his words slightly slurred.

"Fuckin' everyone. Tired of everyone bein' in my face every goddamn minute," Mickey said around his cigarette. "Tired of bein' the center of attention. Of bein' told when and where to fuckin' kiss. It's too much. His whole family is too fuckin' much sometimes."

Ian looked back out towards the dark water, biting his tongue, not wanting to slander Mason's family. It wasn't his place. Besides, it wasn't Mason's family he had a problem with.

"You?"

"Just needed to step 'way for a minute," Ian said, knowing he couldn't admit the real reason he needed space; that seeing Mickey and Mason together was like a slow form of torture. That watching them kiss ripped his heart to shreds a little more each time. That knowing he and Mickey would never get a real shot at a life together made him feel like crying. "Music was givin' me a headache."

Mickey chewed on his lip a little more and nodded before saying, "You know I can tell when your ass is lying, right?"

Ian swallowed thickly before glancing at him. He hated that he'd always been such an open book to Mickey, whereas he could never tell what Mickey was thinking or feeling.

"You know what I'm tryin' to get away from," he finally admitted. He closed his eyes when his words hung in the air. "It hurts," he finished, not elaborating; knowing he didn't need to.

"Fuck," Mickey breathed. "I don't know what to say to that, Ian. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?"

Ian reached up and pinched his eyebrows together before sighing heavily. "You don't gotta say anything, Mickey."

Mickey said nothing.

"I gave a guy my number today," Ian blurted as he reached down to sift sand through his fingers. "Mason's friend. Tom. No… Tim. He seems like a nice guy. He's funny. Doubt anything will come of it, though, since he lives in 'nother state. Still, I took his number. That's a good first step, right?"

"Why the fuck are you tellin' me this?" Mickey asked after a pause, his voice sounding a little rough around the edges.

Ian chuckled under his breath. He suddenly felt exhausted. "I dunno. Just thought you'd wanna know that you don't, you know… have to worry 'bout me lookin' at you anymore. Or worry 'bout me flirtin' with you anymore. You don't have to worry about me tryin' to kiss you again."

Mickey sighed. "Ian…"

"You don't have to worry 'bout me fuckin' things up 'tween you and Mason."

"Can we not do—"

"I'm movin' on." Ian stopped moving his fingers through the sand when he heard Mickey let out a shaky exhale behind him.

A long silence ensued before Mickey uttered, "I, uh… I should probably head back before people start wonderin' where I am."

"Yeah," Ian muttered as he went back to playing with the sand. "Prob'ly a good idea. Don't want your fiancé to come lookin' for you again. Don't want him to see us havin' 'nother private conversation."

"Yeah, okay."

Ian closed his eyes, sniffed, and hung his head.

"I'll see ya," Mickey mumbled, hesitating the slightest bit before shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and turning to leave.

"I loved you," Ian blurted in a shaky voice before Mickey could take another step away from him. He let the words hang in the air for a bit before continuing, "Back when we were kids. I fuckin' loved you, Mickey."

He waited for Mickey to say something. When he didn't, he continued, glad his back was to Mickey when his eyes brimmed with tears. "I couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle lovin' you while you were with her. Couldn't handle just bein' a warm mouth to you. Couldn't handle bein' your dirty secret." He turned from his seat in the sand to gauge Mickey's reaction.

Mickey rubbed his bottom lip with an unsteady hand and averted his eyes away from his. After a pause, he said, "I wasn't actually with her, Ian. You fuckin' know that. Do you think I wanted to be with her? You think I had a choice in any of that bullshit that happened? I didn't have a fuckin' choice."

"I was sixteen years old, and the guy I was in love with was ripped away from me before we'd even had a real chance," Ian said with a sad smile. "I wasn't exactly thinkin' rationally back then."

Mickey shifted his jaw back and forth a few times and dropped his eyes, remaining silent.

A shout of boisterous laughter coming from the rehearsal party broke the awkward silence, and Ian took that as his cue to head back. He'd said enough. He'd said too much. He clumsily stood up and brushed the sand off the back of his pants.

"I'm happy for you, Mick. I am. Even though it hurts like hell, I—" he paused, his voice wavering. "I'm proud of you. Glad you get to be the real you. Glad you get to finally be free. Even if it's not with me. Even if it wasn't ever s'posed to be with me."

Mickey nodded curtly and rubbed his mouth, his eyes focused on Ian's chest.

"Can I hug you, or is that 'gainst the rules?" Without giving Mickey a chance to answer, he muttered, "C'mere." He grabbed Mickey's wrist and pulled him in for a hug.

Mickey allowed himself to be tugged forward and eventually wrapped his arms around Ian's waist. He pressed his face against Ian's chest and let out a shuddery breath.

'These Arms of Mine' could be heard playing in the tent.

Ian reached up and cradled the crown of Mickey's head. He nosed at Mickey's temple, exhaled, and closed his eyes. "Missed you, Mick," he whispered next to his ear. "Gonna fuckin' suck sayin' goodbye to you again."

Mickey exhaled unsteadily and sniffed, his face still buried in Ian's shirt.

When Ian finally forced himself to pull back and turned to walk away, intent on skipping the rest of the party and hiding out in his room for the rest of the night, Mickey's next words caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

"You weren't just a warm mouth to me," Mickey said. "You were never just a fuckin' warm mouth to me. Shoulda never said that shit to you because it was never true."

Ian closed his eyes and let out an unsteady breath, his back still turned to Mickey.

"Fuck—" Mickey breathed before blurting, "You were… you were more than that."

Ian finally turned around to look at him, his eyes red-rimmed. Their eyes held, the air thick around them, Otis Redding still crooning in the background. "I was?"

Mickey swallowed visibly and nodded. "Yeah. You were. You're a fuckin' dumbass if you think any different."

Ian let out a slow exhale, not knowing what else to say to that.

"Look," Mickey started, taking a step towards him. "Fuck, Ian… I gotta tell you something."

Ian swallowed thickly, his head feeling dizzy from it all. "Tell me what?"

Mickey sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, his eyes averted towards the party.

"What is it?" Ian asked, hating the look on Mickey's face. It was obvious that he was struggling with something.

"Don't hate me, alright?"

"Could never hate you," Ian said, taking a step forward and reaching for him.

Mickey waved him off. "You fuckin' might after I tell you this."

Ian frowned, retracting his hand. "What?" When Mickey hesitated and gave him a distressed look, he snapped, "Fuckin' tell me, Mickey. You're freakin' me the fuck out."

"We're not in love," Mickey finally said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're not even together."

Ian sighed. "I know we're not together, but I—"

"Not us, you idiot."

Ian froze as he tried to register Mickey's words. He was completely at a loss. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Me and Mason," Mickey clarified. "We're not marrying each other because we're in love."

Ian frowned, feeling as if he was a few steps behind in the conversation. He shook his head as if that would help clear it. "Wait. What the hell are you talking about? Then why are you marrying him?"

"We're doing it for insurance," Mickey admitted after a beat. The anguish he felt over the admission was written all over his face. "He's one of my good friends. I need medical insurance, and his job gives awesome fuckin' medical insurance, so he suggested we get married to reap the benefits."

He paused to gauge Ian's reaction and continued when he got nothing. "He also figured he could piss off his tight-ass parents a little in the process by marrying a former thug from Chicago, so he saw it as a win-win situation. Neither of us thought his family would like me. We didn't see that comin' at all."

Ian stared back at him, his expression impassive.

Mickey rubbed roughly at his mouth before waving his hand impatiently. "Fuckin' say something, man. I know you got something to say."

Ian finally barked out a laugh even though he found nothing about the situation funny. He glanced around before focusing his attention back on Mickey. "So, wait. You're just… you're gonna marry this guy for insurance? You're doing all of this… for medical insurance?" He then felt the panic begin to set in. "What is… is something wrong with you? Are you sick?"

"No, fuck, it's nothing like that. Nothing's wrong with me," Mickey assured, holding up a hand to placate him. "I'm fine."

"So you're doing it for nothin' then?" Ian accused. "You're not dying. You're not in dire need of medical attention. You're doin' all this for fuckin' nothing?"

"You wanna keep your voice down, asshole?" Mickey spat, his eyes darting towards the party going on without them.

Ian started to pace a little, his hands in his hair. He spun around and faced Mickey, his emotions finally written all over his face. "You just love marryin' people for reasons other than fuckin' love, don't you, Mickey?" He hadn't meant to say that, knowing it was a low blow, but the words tumbled out before he could stop them.

Mickey gave him a dark look. "Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you, Mickey!" Ian spat, his eyes glossing over with tears. "Does your sister know about this? Does she know this whole thing is a fuckin' scam? Has she been lyin' to me this whole time, too?"

"No one knows," Mickey said, his tone soft. "Not even Mandy. Mason didn't want me to tell her until everything was said and done. He didn't wanna risk it getting out. No one knows but you. I wanted to tell you a few times. I tried to tell you, but—"

"But his family?" Ian interjected. "They're all into it and shit."

"We're doin' it for the gifts," Mickey admitted, having the decency to look ashamed about it all. "We're gonna take the gifts and return everything for cash." When Ian opened his mouth to interrupt, Mickey cut him off. "Mason hates his folks. He thinks they favor Miranda over him. He doesn't care they think it's all real."

"Oh! Poor little rich kid wants to make mommy and daddy mad," Ian spat, his drunkenness intensifying his anger. "His parents bend over backward for him, and this is what he does?"

"Don't do that," Mickey chastised. "Don't take it all out on him. We're both in on it. You don't know the whole story."

Ian barked out a sarcastic laugh, shook his head, and spun in a half-circle. "You're okay with scammin' everyone?" he shouted, motioning towards the fifty or so guests partying without a clue. "They're good people, Mickey! They may be a little over the top and too fuckin' happy a lot of the time, but they're good! They love you! You're okay with using them?"

Mickey frowned. "Why are you so upset about this?"

"Because!" Ian yelled, spinning back to face him. He took a few steps into Mickey's personal space. "Because I lost you once to a fake fuckin' marriage. It fuckin' crushed me, Mickey. Then I find out a week ago that you're getting married again, and I accepted that. I didn't like it, but I accepted it! Then I come here, and we spend the week together, and I… I felt things again, alright? Now you're tellin' me you're getting married to someone you don't even love? Again? You look me right in the eyes and tell me that like it's fuckin' nothing!"

"Ian—"

"Fuck you," Ian breathed before clutching the front of Mickey's dress shirt with both hands and pulling him forward, their bodies crashing together. "Fuck you!"

Their noses bopped as their ragged breath mingled in the small space between them. In the next instant, he shoved Mickey back and turned to walk away.

"Would you calm the fuck down and talk to me like an adult!" Mickey yelled, grabbing Ian by the elbow and stopping him from taking another step. "You're still a fuckin' dramatic asshole, aren't you!"

Ian gave him a baleful look and tore his arm from his grasp.

Mickey sighed and tongued the inside of his cheek, his hand in his hair as he tried to assess the best way to continue the conversation. Finally, he said, "I tried tellin' you a couple of times. I wanted to tell you. It's not like I was purposely trying to fuckin' deceive you, alright? You fuckin' blindsided me when you showed up at the beginning of the week."

"I never shoulda come here," Ian retorted. "This was a mistake. This whole thing was a fuckin' mistake. We shoulda just stayed the fuck out of each other's lives."

"Hey!" Mickey snapped, grabbing Ian's arm again and pulling him close. That time, Ian didn't resist. "I felt it too, alright?" he said. He pressed his forehead against Ian's. "This past week, I felt it." He reached up and cupped his hands around Ian's face and slowly smoothed his thumbs over his cheeks. "Fuck. I'll probably always feel it when it comes to your stupid ass."

Ian shook his head and closed his eyes.

"When I saw you standin' there the other day, with your stupid fuckin' face and kid strapped to your chest in that dumbass baby carrier, everything I felt in the past came rushin' back like it never fuckin' left," Mickey murmured, still caressing Ian's face.

"It's not dumb," Ian muttered with a sniff. "It's a Babybjörn. I paid decent money for that."

Mickey opened his mouth and then closed it, frowning in confusion. "The fuck? After everything I just said to you, that's your takeaway?"

Ian let out an unsteady breath and pushed in closer. He placed his hands on Mickey's waist and clutched the material of his shirt. "Mickey…" he whispered before leaning in and touching his mouth to Mickey's in a sweet, chaste kiss.

"We can't," Mickey murmured after indulging in the simple, chaste kiss for a few beats. He turned his head and sighed when Ian kissed his cheek. He took Ian's hands and reluctantly removed them from his hips. He took a step back to put space between them. "Not here. Not out in the open like this where anyone can see us."

"What, you wanna hide?" Ian asked with venom in his tone. "Sneak around?"

"Honestly? I don't know what the fuck I wanna do."

"You don't know what you wanna do? Are you still gonna go through with the wedding?" Ian asked, feeling like he'd been in that position before, saying those exact words, asking Mickey not to marry someone he wasn't meant to be with. When Mickey hesitated, he repeated, softer, "Are you still goin' through with it?"

"Yeah. I'm still goin' through with it," Mickey said. He smoothed his thumb over the apple of Ian's cheek and clicked his tongue when Ian pulled back. He moved his hand around the back of Ian's neck to pull him back in and keep him in place. "What am I supposed to do here, Ian? I'm at the guy's family's cabin. The wedding is tomorrow. They put a lot of money into this shit."

"So tell them it's all fake," Ian snapped. "Tell them the truth. It's not like Mason is really in love with you, and you're not in love with him. It'd be easy not to go through with it."

"It's not that easy—"

"Don't do this, Mickey."

Mickey removed his hand from Ian's neck and took a step back. He regarded him with a frown for a handful of seconds before saying, "The fuck you expect me to do here, Ian? I can't just drop everything now. I need insurance. Mason is my friend. Everything is set up for the wedding tomorrow. His parents spent a fortune on this shit. I can't just—"

"Yeah, they spent a fortune on a fake wedding that doesn't mean shit!"

Mickey heaved a sigh and swiped a hand down his face before saying, "You don't understand. I can't back out. Not now. We're too deep into it."

"Yes, you can!" Ian bellowed. He then sighed and grabbed Mickey's hips. "Mickey, look at me. You can't go through with this."

"What, you think because your ass has been back in my life for all of six fuckin' days that I should just drop everything, rearrange my whole life, to be with you?" Mickey snapped. "Yeah, I felt things this past week, so fuckin' what? I also know that we're two different people, Ian. We're not the same naïve asshole kids we were back then. I don't even… fuck. We don't even know each other anymore."

"How can you say that? I do know you, Mickey," Ian said, looking as hurt as he felt by Mickey's words. "You know me!"

Mickey's brows arched, and he scoffed a little at that.

Ian shook his head indignantly. "So, you'd rather watch me walk away from you again than call off your fake wedding?" he asked after a loaded silence. He then let out a wry laugh and took a step back. "Why does this sound so fuckin' familiar?"

Mickey sighed and rubbed his eyes. "It's not that easy, Ian. Nothing is ever that fuckin' easy."

"Oh, but it is easy. Only except now no one's holding a gun to your head, forcing you to go through with it," Ian continued in an unsteady tone. He knew it was a low blow, but he was hurt. "You're blatantly not choosing me this time."

"Ian."

"Are you in love with the guy?" Ian asked in a quivering tone. "Is that it? Do you want it to be real with him?"

"Are you fuckin'—" Mickey spat. "I told you, I don't wanna be with him!"

"So why won't—"

"Because you never shoulda walked away from me the first fuckin' time!" Mickey finally bellowed. "So excuse the fuck outta me for not trustin' your ass again after six fuckin' days! Excuse me for not up-ending my life and entire situation for your ass just because you're deciding to maybe stick around this time."

Ian took in Mickey's words and nodded slowly. He convulsively swallowed a few times before speaking. "'Kay. Glad we established how you really feel. Thanks for not sugarcoating things this time."

Mickey sighed and reached for him, but all he got was air as Ian stepped back.

"No, you're right. It's selfish of me to expect you to give up anything for me," Ian said, his voice wavering. "Guess I haven't changed at all. Neither of us has."

"Ian," Mickey chastised. "Don't fuckin' be like this."

"I'm gonna head back up to the party," Ian intoned, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked backward. "Don't want all that expensive food and alcohol to go to waste."

Mickey stood back and watched as Ian turned and walked away from him.

Again.

* * *

Mickey entered his and Mason's room later that night, hours after the rehearsal dinner had ended. After shutting the door, he leaned back against it, ran a hand down his face, and sighed heavily.

From the king-sized bed, Mason looked up from his phone and said, "There you are. I haven't seen you in a while. Everyone was looking for ya."

"Apparently not hard enough," Mickey grumbled as he began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Where have you been?"

"Went for a long walk to clear my head."

"At ten o'clock at night?" Mason asked with an arched brow.

Mickey shrugged as he removed his shirt. "Wasn't aware I had a fuckin' curfew."

Mason clicked his tongue. "You obviously don't have a curfew, but we promised if we were going to do this, we'd keep each other informed on everything. I just wanna make sure we're good and still on the same page about everything."

Mickey said nothing to that.

"You're upset about something," Mason started. "Is everything okay?"

"Not really, no," Mickey said, trying and failing to keep the bite from his tone. Truth be told, he was still pissed off over what Mason had said to Ian at the bonfire the night before, but he was trying to keep things amicable, at least until after the wedding.

"What's wrong? You gotta talk to me, man. This is a pretty big thing we're tryin' to pull off here. If you're havin' doubts, I need to know."

Mickey sighed again and toed off his shoes, eager to take a long, hot shower and forget the night ever happened. "I'm not havin' doubts. I just don't feel like talkin' about it. Is that alright with you?" He reached behind his head to pull his undershirt off, missing the way his friend was checking him out.

"Okay, so we won't talk about it," Mason intoned, placing his phone to the side. "Are we good, though? That's all I need to know."

"Yeah," Mickey muttered, shrugging. "We're good."

"Good." As Mickey began removing his pants, Mason said, "I was talkin' to my buddy Tim earlier. Apparently, he and Ian hit it off right off the bat. They exchanged numbers and everything. Tim's already practically smitten with him."

Mickey paused with his pants halfway off, his friend's words causing his stomach to churn. The very thought of Ian going out with Tim didn't sit well with him at all, but what could he do? He finally followed through with removing his pants and tossed the garment on a nearby chair. "I heard."

"Judging by your tone I take it you're not happy about that?"

"The fuck should I care what he does?"

"You sound like you care."

"Yeah, well… I don't," Mickey lied. "He can do whatever the fuck he wants to do, bang whoever he wants to bang. It has fuck all to do with me."

Mason hummed and watched as Mickey removed his socks. "So, are you ready for tomorrow? The big day. Should we be sleeping together tonight? Shouldn't we be in separate rooms or something?"

Mickey snorted, still secretly stewing in his complicated emotions concerning Ian. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Mason about their fake fucking wedding. "Yeah, maybe if we were really gettin' fuckin' married." He sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed a hand down his face, knowing he had to come clean to his friend. He had a right to know that someone else was privy to their secret. He sighed and said, "Fuck, man. I lied to you. I gotta tell you something."

"Yeah?" Mason said, his eyes roaming over Mickey's exposed back. "Tell me what?"

Mickey decided to put it all out there. There was no reason to keep it from him. "Ian knows about the wedding. He knows it's all fake, knows we're only doing it for insurance and to piss off your parents."

Mason was quiet for a beat before saying, "Why does he know that?"

His friend's voice sounded strange, but Mickey was too emotionally exhausted to think much of it. "I told him. We, uh, we got into it down on the beach. He told me about Tim, told me he, uh, that he used to love me back when we were kids. I don't fuckin' know. I slipped. I told him everything."

"He told you about Tim… so you told him about us?"

"I know you didn't want anyone to fuckin' know but… fuck." Mickey paused to scrub at his eyes. "It's Ian. The fuck was I supposed to do?"

Mason dropped his eyes and nodded.

"You shoulda seen his fuckin' face, man," Mickey continued, pinching the bridge of his nose, unaware of the odd look on his friend's face. "It was like fuckin' déjà vu. I saw that look before. He was fuckin' crushed. Didn't ever wanna have to see that look again."

"You still have feelings for him," Mason said after a lengthy pause.

Mickey swallowed thickly and looked down at his hands. There was no use in denying it. He sniffed when Mason remained silent and stood up. "Anyway, I'm gonna go take a shower." He grabbed the pillow from the floor and tossed it to Mason so he could place it down the middle of the bed like always.

Mason watched as Mickey disappeared into the bathroom, any remnant of a good mood he'd had earlier in the night long gone.

* * *

The next morning, Ian opened his bloodshot, bleary eyes to sunshine filtering in through the expensive curtains. He could tell from his position in bed that the sky was clear and cornflower blue, with no clouds in sight. The lake was calm and shimmering in the sunlight. Birds chirped noisily from the surrounding spruce trees.

It was a perfect day for a wedding.

Of fucking course it was.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, groaning. His head was pounding, and his mouth was dry and tasted like stale alcohol. After his fight with Mickey, he'd swiped a half-full bottle of Grey Goose from the tent and finished it off while wallowing in his misery on the end of the dock until almost midnight. He was regretting that decision hard.

He glanced next to him to find that Mandy was gone, probably holed up with the other groomsmaids while they got pampered and ready for the big day. He wondered what she thought about him stumbling into their room the night before, drunk off his ass. He didn't even remember returning to the cabin, the last few hours of his night a blur. He suddenly felt terrible, hoping he hadn't woken Mia up. He also really hoped he hadn't said anything stupid.

He noticed a pink post-it note lying on the pillow next to his and reached for it. It was a hastily written note telling him that Mandy had Mia with her and not to worry, that she was getting primped and pampered with the rest of the girls.

With great effort, he rolled out of bed, took his meds, showered, brushed his teeth, and got dressed in his suit; all while thinking about Mickey the entire time.

He wondered how Mickey was feeling. Was he nervous? Was he already dressed in his tux? Was he thinking about him, too?

Scolding himself and pushing those thoughts from his head, he sat down on the bed and fired off a few texts to Debbie and Carl, not knowing what else to do to pass the time before the wedding started. Of course, when Debbie asked how things were, he responded that everything was going fine. He didn't want her to worry about his mental health. He didn't want her to know that he was barely holding on.

He knew he was a glutton for punishment, sticking around yet again to watch Mickey marry someone he didn't love, but, once again, he found himself unwilling to leave.

After a while, he decided he might as well bite the bullet and join the rest of the guests outside. He left his room and started down the hallway. With each step he took, his heart grew heavier, and it got a little harder to breathe.

He glanced inside of a room in passing and was surprised to find Mickey standing alone inside, his back facing Ian as he stared pensively out of the rooms' window.

Ian contemplated his decision for only a handful of seconds before stepping to the threshold of the room. "Hey."

Mickey spun around, looking surprised to see him standing there. His eyes swept down Ian's body and back up again. "Hey."

Ian shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorjamb.

"You're still here," Mickey said after a beat. "I thought you mighta left."

"Yeah. I'm still here." Ian shrugged, trying to appear cool, calm, and collected even though he was dying on the inside. "Glutton for punishment and all that."

"Wouldn't have blamed you if you left," Mickey said, his voice thick.

Ian nodded curtly and dropped his eyes to take in Mickey's appearance. He looked amazing. The tux he wore was clearly more expensive than the one he'd worn to his and Svetlana's wedding. He knew there was no chance in hell he'd be able to strip Mickey out of it as he had back then, but, fuck; he wanted to. Even though he was still pissed at him, he knew, more than ever, that he'd always want him.

"Fuck, Mick," he breathed before he could stop himself. "You look good."

Mickey bit his bottom lip and looked down at his slate grey pants and white dress shirt. He had the shirt unbuttoned at the top and the sleeves rolled to his elbows. "They wanted me to wear a fuckin' jacket, but it's too hot for that shit. I'd be sweatin' my balls off. They're lucky I'm even considering wearin' a tie."

Ian smiled sadly at that. Fuck, he was going to miss him when it was all over; when they inevitably went their separate ways again.

"You nervous?"

"Nah," Mickey said with a shrug. "Not like I'm marryin' the guy for real. It's all just a formality." He then lifted his eyes to meet Ian's, his words hanging meaningfully in the air.

Ian swallowed hard and looked down at his shoes, hating the whole situation and wishing there was something he could do to change it. "Still…"

Mickey chewed his lip and nodded before looking out the window again to the large crowd gathering in the yard. "Lotta fuckin' people down there."

"Yeah." Ian wanted to ask him how he could still be willing to go through with scamming so many people, but he bit his tongue. He was intent on being mature and accepting the things he couldn't change.

Mickey sighed and scrubbed a shaky hand down his face.

"I'm sorry," Ian blurted. When Mickey turned towards him with a questioning look, he continued, "I'm sorry about last night. About the whole week, actually. I don't wanna put you in an awkward situation. You're an adult, and if you feel like this is what you need to do, then I need to respect that. There's no, uh, no ultimatums here." He paused before saying, "Truth is, I'm happy I get to to be in your life at all, even as a long-distance friend. Never even thought I'd get that honestly." He smiled sadly and hung his head.

Mickey gnawed the inside of his cheek and said nothing.

"I just want you to be happy, Mick," Ian continued, his voice wavering slightly. "That's all I fuckin' want. If that means you bein' safe and happy always meant a life without me, then I have to accept that. If it means you going through with this, I need to accept that, too. It's your life. It's your decision. You've had your choices ripped away from you in the past. I won't do that to you. I refuse to do that to you."

Mickey still said nothing; he just nodded and rubbed his mouth with an unsteady hand.

Ian shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. "Okay. I'm gonna head downstairs before this turns even more awkward." He smiled, even though his eyes remained sad. "I'll see you down there."

Before he could turn to leave, Mickey muttered, "Thanks."

Ian gave him a short nod and a small smile over his shoulder before leaving. The smile slipped off his face, and he swallowed back his emotions as he reluctantly made his way downstairs.

Once outside, he took in the decorations. There were white folding chairs neatly lined up in rows in front of the gazebo. A white aisle runner with a monogrammed M&M led from the cabin porch to the gazebo. The decorations were minimal and simple but still pretty and romantic.

It hurt his heart to see, even if none of it was real.

"You okay?"

Ian turned around and smiled at the sight of his best friend. She looked beautiful in her slate-blue maxi dress. For a moment, it took his mind off everything. "Mandy, you look awesome."

"I know," Mandy said, grinning as she smoothed out her dress, a small bouquet of blue hydrangeas in one hand. "So do you, but what else is new?"

"Thanks," Ian said, feeling mediocre in his plain white dress shirt and khaki pants. He hadn't been able to tame his curls that day, either, and had given up fairly quickly trying to do anything with his hair. He was learning to embrace his curls, among other things. "Hey, uh, sorry about last night… for comin' in drunk so late. It was fuckin' stupid and irresponsible of me."

"It's okay," Mandy said, shrugging. "It just worries me when you drink like that on your meds. You passed out pretty quick. I didn't have to take care of you too much, so you're forgiven."

Ian hesitated before asking his next question, afraid of the answer. "I didn't say anything stupid, did I?"

"You may have mumbled my brother's name a few times, but that's about it," Mandy said with a small smile. "Nothing too embarrassing."

Ian sighed and scratched the back of his neck, thinking maybe it was best to change the subject before she could ask questions. "Where's Mia?"

"Mason's mom has her," Mandy said, motioning over her shoulder to where Brenda was holding Mia near the cake table. "She wanted to show her off to Mason's grandmother. I hope that's okay."

Ian looked in the direction Mandy pointed to find Mia in the middle of a crowd of cooing and gushing women. Mia was smiling, so he figured she was in good hands. "Yeah, that's okay. She's the belle of the ball, huh?"

"Yeah, she is," Mandy agreed, smiling. "She's such a ham. Everyone loves her."

Ian felt a swell of pride in his chest as he watched his niece soaking up the limelight. It comforted him to know that he had at least one person in his life whom he loved, who loved him back unequivocally. It made him happy to know he'd always have Mia on his side.

Mandy looked at him, her smile faltering a bit. "I know this can't be easy for you, standing back and watching Mickey get married. I'm proud of you for being here. It's really big of you."

Ian ran a hand over his hair and glanced away.

She was right. None of it was easy. The last thing he wanted to do was stand there among Mason's family and friends and watch Mickey get married. He'd done that one other time before and didn't want to go through it again. He knew the marriage was a sham and was nothing like it had been with Svetlana, but it still hurt. Watching Mickey continuously get married for reasons other than love hurt. Watching Mickey get married to someone who wasn't him again, hurt.

But he had decided to let it go. He had no other choice. He was intent on going home in the morning and moving on. He was ready to accept the fact that he and Mickey were not meant to be together. If they were, Mickey wouldn't be marrying someone else, no matter what the circumstances.

He was determined to live his life and be happy. He wasn't exactly sure how to do that yet, but he had hope that he'd eventually get there. He knew he had to make a few trips to see his therapist after that week to sort shit out in his head, but he knew he would be okay. He had to be. Not only for himself, but for Mia.

Before Ian was ready, everyone was taking their seats, and the hired harpist began playing, signaling that the wedding was about to start.

"Who woulda thought my brother's wedding would include a fuckin' harpist?" Mandy whispered from beside him. She then shot him a sad look when she realized he wasn't smiling. She leaned in and kissed his stubbly cheek before going to take her place near the gazebo.

Mason's mom was suddenly at Ian's side, handing Mia off to him before she, too, took her place with the rest of the wedding party.

He held Mia against his chest as he buried his nose in her hair, trying to take some comfort in her proximity. He closed his eyes and did a breathing exercise to calm his nerves. His heart raced in his chest regardless of how many deep breaths he took. He could slowly feel himself starting to unravel and tried with everything in him to stop that from happening. It wasn't the time nor the place for a breakdown.

After ten minutes of nothing happening, everyone started fanning themselves with their wedding programs, and the music went on and on. After another few minutes, everyone began stirring in their seats and glancing around, wondering what the holdup was.

Ian watched with a hammering heart as one of Mason's cousins dashed up to Mandy, whispering something in her ear. He frowned, wondering what was going on. Mandy's eyes immediately found his in the crowd. He watched as she left her place and walked off, Mason's cousin walking hurriedly with her.

"What's hap'nin'?" Mason's cousin Bill asked him, his Pittsburgh accent thick.

Ian shrugged as he looked around, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't want to allow himself to hope. "I dunno."

A hush fell over the crowd minutes later as Mason finally came around from the side of the cabin and walked across the sand to stand at the gazebo.

"Uh, sorry for the delay. I'd like to thank everyone for taking time out of their busy lives to join us this week. It means a lot to me and my family, and I hope you all enjoyed yourselves," Mason began. He cleared his throat before continuing, "I'm sorry to say that there, uh, there will not be a wedding today."

Murmurs and gasps of surprise could be heard coming from the crowd of people who had their hearts set on seeing a wedding that day.

Meanwhile, Ian stood frozen as his heart continued to hammer in his chest when he thought about what it could all mean.

"Please, feel free to stay and enjoy the food, drinks, and live music," Mason added, motioning towards the tent. "There's no reason we can't have a party. It's a beautiful day, we should enjoy it."

Ian watched as Mason's parents practically bombarded him as soon as he finished addressing the crowd. They did not look happy. He couldn't blame them. He could only imagine the amount of money they'd shelled out for the wedding.

He didn't dwell on those thoughts for long. His heart raced in his chest as he thought up the reasons why there wouldn't be a wedding.

Had Mason come to his senses and decided not to scam his parents? Did Mickey realize that getting married for insurance was fucking ridiculous and that it was only realistic in cheesy movie and book plots?

Had it been something else…?

Ian ran a hand over his head and glanced around, not knowing what to do. As he was looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of Mandy, his eyes caught Miranda's through the crowd. He froze when he saw the way she was looking at him. She was looking at him as if he was the enemy.

She shook her head minutely and then dropped her eyes before turning to follow her irate parents into the cabin.

Ian felt awful, knowing that Miranda knew he at least played a small part in whatever had happened between Mickey and Mason. He'd promised her he wouldn't cause trouble between them, and that was exactly what he did. Then again, how much trouble could he have caused considering none of it had been real, to begin with?

As he turned to head back to the cabin a few minutes later, intent on finding Mandy and hopefully getting some answers, a voice called out to him.

"Ian."

Ian stopped in his tracks when he heard Mason calling his name. He sighed and turned around, not ready to have whatever conversation they were about to have. He held Mia tighter to his chest, wishing she wasn't there to be involved in any of it.

"Mickey took off," Mason said once Ian was facing him with a glum expression. "I knew he wasn't showing up today." He paused dramatically before saying, "I take it you had a feeling, too?"

"Look, Mason," Ian began, not wanting to be in the middle of the drama, not with Mia in his arms. "I didn't come here to start anything between you and Mickey. I only came to keep Mandy company. I wasn't trying to cause—"

"I know you know the truth," Mason interjected. "You know we were faking it. Mickey told me last night that he told you everything."

Ian swallowed hard, nodded, and averted his eyes, not knowing what to say to that.

"He took off because of you," Mason continued. "I thought you'd wanna know that. He didn't wanna hurt you again."

Ian looked up, surprised. "He told you about everything that happened between us? With his dad and… with me leaving? You know about all that?" A part of him felt hurt that Mickey had told Mason their deepest, darkest, shared secret. Even Mandy didn't know everything that had happened back then.

"Yeah," Mason said, shrugging as if it was no big deal. "He told me all about it. He told me how much it hurt him when you walked away from him to join the army. Told me how glad he was that you came here this week. How relieved he was to see you were doing good. He told me he didn't wanna hurt you again. I knew he wasn't gonna show up today. I could see it on his face last night."

Ian pursed his lips and nodded, not knowing what else to say.

"He cares about you, Ian. He always has," Mason said, his tone wavering. "Don't fuck it up again."

Ian averted his eyes to the ground. Before Mason could turn away, he blurted, "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Mason froze before turning back to look at him. He said nothing to refute what Ian had said, giving him all the answer he needed.

"It might have been fake on his end, but you want it to be real with him."

Mason remained silent.

"I mean, I get it," Ian intoned, shrugging. "If anyone gets it, it's me. It's hard not to love him."

Mason glanced away and chuckled under his breath.

"I see the way you look at him," Ian continued. "It would also explain why you went through so much for a fake wedding; pulling your family into it, doing all this…" He paused to glance around. When he looked back at Mason, he wasn't surprised to see him looking guilty.

"You can't say anything to him, alright?" Mason said after a beat. "He doesn't have to know how I feel. Above anything else, he really is one of my best friends, and I don't want anything to change that."

Ian laughed even though he didn't find any of it funny. "Your best friend who you were gonna marry for selfish reasons? What, were you just gonna sit back and hope he eventually returned your feelings one day? That's a little selfish, don't you think?"

"No, that's not how it was," Mason answered with a shrug. "I knew there wasn't a chance in hell for us."

Ian frowned, waiting for him to continue.

"He's never fully gotten over you," Mason elaborated. "When I saw you show up with his sister at the beginning of the week, I knew it was only a matter of time before he called the whole thing off. He's been distracted all week. I saw the way he kept looking at you when he thought no one was watching. I knew there wasn't gonna be a wedding."

Ian sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look… I'm sorry things didn't work out for you, but I'm not sorry for how I feel about him. I'm not sorry he took off. You know it was the right thing for him to do."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"No. No maybe," Ian intoned, shooting him a look. "He was right to walk away."

"I was serious about what I said before," Mason said, clearing choosing to ignore Ian's words as he started walking backward to rejoin his disappointed guests. "Don't fuck it up again. You never know when the right guy is gonna swoop in and finally get him to get over you." He smirked for good measure before turning to walk away.

Ian watched after him with a frown. How so many people were fooled by that guy, he had no idea.

* * *

Shortly after the non-wedding, Ian and Mandy packed up their shit and hightailed it out of there. Since Mickey had skipped out on the wedding, they were public enemy number one as far as Mason's family was concerned, if the whispers and glares they'd received as they left the cabin were any indications.

"Did you know the whole wedding was a sham?" Ian asked Mandy after they'd been on the road for nearly half an hour.

"A sham?" she asked, frowning as she fumbled with the air conditioning knob. "What d'you mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Mickey was marrying him for medical insurance," Ian said, looking over to gauge her reaction. "Mason was goin' along with it because he wanted to make his parents mad that he was marrying a bad boy from Chicago with an attitude and knuckle tats."

"You know, I can't say I'm surprised. I had a feeling something was up when we first arrived," Mandy said as she pulled her sunglasses from the top of her head to sit on the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah?" Ian frowned, turning in his seat a little. "How so?"

"The more I paid attention, the more I realized Mickey didn't seem into any of it," she said. "He didn't have that look in his eye when he was around him. I just figured he was good at hiding his feelings in front of people. I thought he couldn't possibly marry the guy if he didn't love him."

"Wait," Ian started. "You told me you thought for sure Mickey loved him?"

"I had to tell you that," she defended. "I didn't wanna get your hopes up and have you pullin' anything stupid. I didn't want you to sabotage his wedding in case I was wrong."

"Thanks," Ian snapped. "For not trusting me to do the right thing even though that's exactly what I did."

Mandy shot him a look. "You've had trouble doing the right thing in the past. I was protecting you as much as I was protecting him."

Ian looked out the window at the passing scenery, mulling over Mandy's words. He was pissed about them but begrudgingly realized she had a right to say them.

"Anyway, Mason definitely had that look in his eye." He glanced back at her to find her looking at him with an arched brow. "Turns out, Mason's in love with Mickey," he elaborated. "Pissin' off his parents wasn't the only reason he was goin' along with the whole thing."

"Really? Fuck," Mandy said, frowning. She then snorted. "Poor guy. Sounds like a fucked-up rom-com plot. How do you know all this, anyway?"

"He told me," Ian clarified. He then rested his head back against his seat and sighed. "Mason's good looking, rich, successful, smart…"

"You sure you're not in love with him?" she teased, which earned her an eye roll from her best friend in return.

"What I'm saying is," Ian intoned, "he's the total package in a lot of people's eyes. What if this whole thing pushes Mason to admit his real feelings for Mickey? What if Mickey realizes he has feelings for him, too? You've seen those cheesy movies where they pretend to date and then realize they're hopelessly in love with each other in the end?" When Mandy said nothing, he said, 'Drive Me Crazy'? 'The Proposal'?"

"I think you watch too many movies."

Ian smirked at that.

Mandy laughed. "Anyway, I don't think that's gonna happen."

"How do you know?" Ian asked, giving her a sidelong glance. "It could happen."

"It doesn't happen."

"It's not impossible."

"Just trust me on this one."

Ian sighed and rested his head against the headrest, his eyes once again averted to glance out the window at the passing farmhouses and cornfields.

"I'm gonna stop for gas now before we get on the open road," Mandy declared after a few minutes of silence when a sign for a truck stop popped into view. "Better stop now, who knows when we'll come across another station. Driving through rural Pennsylvania sucks ass."

"Okay," Ian muttered distractedly as he stared out the window, his head lost in thoughts wondering where Mickey was, and why he had disappeared without a trace. He could have at least let Mandy know what he was doing. He could have told her why he was leaving. Even a simple text would do, but every text he and Mandy sent had gone unanswered.

"Can you clean the windshield while I go in to pay?" Mandy asked after she'd gotten out of the car.

"Sure."

"Thanks." As she rifled through her purse, she asked, "Want anything while I'm in there? Something to drink?"

"An orange pop sounds good," Ian said. "Maybe some chips?"

"The hell, Ian? You think I'm made of money?" Mandy teased before smiling. "You know, you're lucky you're pretty."

Ian laughed and gave her an exaggerated toothy smile as she shut the door.

Once Mandy entered the gas station, he glanced in the backseat to find Mia sleeping soundly in her car seat. He got out of the car and stepped out into the sweltering heat, instantly missing the car's air conditioning. He walked around to the drivers' side to grab the squeegee and froze when he noticed someone casually leaning against the gas pump.

"Holy fuck," Ian breathed, not believing what he was seeing.

Standing five feet away was Mickey, still dressed in his tux pants and dress shirt. The dress shirt was untucked, unbuttoned, and rolled up at the sleeves. A cigarette dangled loosely from his mouth as he stared back at Ian. He took a deep drag, blew out the smoke through his nose, and then smirked.

"Took your ass long enough."

Ian's mouth opened a few times before words finally came out. "Mickey? The hell are you doin' here?"

"Called Mandy right after I left the cabin, told her to meet me here."

"You talked to Mandy?"

"It's the last truck stop before my exit to Pittsburgh," Mickey continued after dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it out with his shoe. "I wanted to see you before I went back. Need to talk to you."

"You coulda talked to me back at the cabin," Ian said, still trying to process everything. "You didn't have to be so fuckin' dramatic about it."

The corner of Mickey's mouth curled into a smile, and he nodded and sniffed as he looked down at his shoes. "Dramatic, huh? Took some cues from your ass." He then looked back up, his expression turning serious. "I couldn't talk to you back there. Not with everyone around. They probably wanna strangle my ass right about now."

"You can't really blame 'em, can you?"

"No, guess I can't," Mickey said, catching Ian's eyes before dipping his head again. "Don't really give a shit what they think, though. I had to do what's right for me."

"You had to do what's right for you."

Mickey nodded, his eyes still focused on the ground. "Yeah."

"What's right for you?"

Mickey lifted his head and looked at him.

"Why did you skip out on your wedding, Mickey?" Ian asked after a beat. His heart raced in his chest. A part of him knew why Mickey had skipped out on the wedding; Mason had confirmed as much, but he wanted to hear him say it. He needed to hear him say it.

Mickey made him wait for a few beats before saying, "I pick you."

Ian opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. He'd expected some kind of confession but never expected those words. He'd never expected Mickey to say them so bluntly, so wholeheartedly. His heart continued to race in his chest.

"I realized what a dumbass fuckin' mistake I was about to make," Mickey continued when Ian remained silent. "I didn't get a choice at the last wedding. I realized this time I got a fuckin' choice. I wasn't being forced into doing anything I didn't wanna do."

Ian looked up, his eyes squinting in the sun as he waited with bated breath.

"This time it was fuckin' easy," Mickey finished, shrugging. "I pick you."

"You pick me?" Ian repeated, swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "What, um, what does that mean exactly?"

"It means… we're both fuckin' fully functioning adults now with nothing really standing in our way this time," Mickey said, stepping closer. "Figured maybe we can take another chance on each other. Put our whole fuckin' selves into it and see where we end up. I think we owe each other that much after the shit we've been through."

"You wanna take a chance?" Ian repeated, trying to wrap his head around it all. "On us?"

"Yeah," Mickey answered with certainty, his gaze unwavering. "I do."

"I have a kid," Ian uttered once Mickey was standing directly in front of him. "You sure you wanna date a guy with a kid?"

"You're a packaged deal," Mickey said, shrugging. "I get that."

Ian swallowed hard and nodded before looking down. Without looking up, he said, "I'm a fuckin' mess. I might look like I have my shit together, but I really don't. I'm raising a kid, trying to juggle my mental illness—"

"I still pick you," Mickey interjected. "Fuckin' kid, bipolar shit, all of it."

"Mick—"

"Ian. I don't give a shit about any of that bullshit," Mickey reiterated, taking a step closer until they were practically chest to chest. "I'm not gonna lie," he continued, his eyes searching Ian's. "I thought about you a lot over the years. I always fuckin' wondered what woulda happened if you stayed, or if I went back, or if my dad never woulda walked in on us in the first place."

He paused before reaching up to cup his hand against Ian's face, his thumb smoothing over the apple of his cheek. "It might all end up being a big fuckin' mistake, and it might all turn to complete shit, but we gotta at least try, right? I don't wanna fuckin' wonder about us anymore."

Ian released an unsteady breath, leaned in, and pressed his forehead to Mickey's. "I don't wanna wonder anymore, either. Fuck, Mickey. I don't wanna wonder anymore."

Mickey nodded against Ian's forehead as he slid his hand up Ian's cheek and along the back of his head to dig his fingers in his curls. He gripped Ian's hair and playfully jostled his head back and forth. He smiled and chuckled under his breath. "Been wantin' to do that all fuckin' week, man."

"You like the curls?"

"Fuck yeah, I do."

"Yeah, well, I like you," Ian muttered before leaning in the last few inches to kiss him softly on the mouth.

Mickey pulled away before the sweet, chaste kiss could deepen. "I wanna take shit slow, alright? Wanna do this right. Don't wanna rush into things and fuck it up."

Ian nodded against his forehead in agreement and let out the breath he'd been holding. "Slow? I can do slow. I'll do whatever you wanna do."

Mickey nodded, sniffed, and stepped back.

Ian reluctantly let him.

Their eyes met and held, both secretly fighting the urge to reach for each other again.

Moments later, Mandy exited the gas station and walked towards them, looking hesitant as she approached. "So?" she asked when she was close enough, her eyes on Ian. "Are you surprised?"

Ian chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. "You're gettin' a little too good at the sneaky shit, you know that? It's kinda scary."

Mandy nodded and looked down, looking a little ashamed. "Was it a good or bad surprise?"

Ian looked over at Mickey to find him looking back. "Good," he said after a beat. "Definitely good."

"So, are you two on again or what?"

"We're gonna take things slow," Ian said, still looking at Mickey. Their eyes caught and held, and his heart raced in his chest as he realized just how lucky he was to get that second chance. "We're gonna start fresh, see where it goes."

Mickey arched his brows and smiled as he rubbed the corner of his mouth, seemingly pleased with Ian's answer.

Ian's heart swelled a little when he considered the possibilities. There was nothing he wanted to do more than start fresh with his first love. He couldn't wait to see what their future held.

They were finally getting their chance.

* * *

After going home to Chicago, Ian fell back into his normal, mundane routine. He went back to working long hours at the station and spent most of his free time taking care of Mia. The only difference was the fact that he and Mickey kept in steady contact through text messages and Skype calls. They were slowly taking their time to get to know each other again.

About a month into things, they'd decided to take things to the next level. Ian was flying out to Pittsburgh to spend an entire weekend with Mickey. Two whole days of hanging out and talking. They needed some real face-to-face time to decide if the thing between them was worth pursuing. They needed to have a serious conversation, one Ian wasn't sure he was ready to have.

"So, you're really flying out there for the whole weekend?" Debbie asked the day before Ian was scheduled to leave. They were hanging out in his kitchen while she prepared a pot of spaghetti on the stove.

"Yep, the whole weekend," Ian said as he strapped Mia into her high chair. "Thanks again for lookin' after her for me while I go. I could take her with me, but Mickey and I need time alone to figure our shit out. We can't really do that with a crying baby around."

"Time alone, huh?" Deb said with a grin. "Gotcha."

Ian smirked. "It's not like that. We have some stuff to figure out first before we get to that."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Not allowed to joke around with you about sex? Got it. Anyway," she said, ignoring his exaggerated sigh. "I have no problem lookin' after her for a few days, you know that. Franny and I love havin' her around."

"Still, I owe you big time."

"Oh, please, no you don't," Debbie assured him. "You know I love her to bits. It's no problem. Go do what you have to do. We'll be fine. We're gonna have fun, aren't we, Mi-Mi?"

Mia babbled her agreement as she chewed on her fist.

Ian smiled at his sister as he sat down to feed Mia her lunch.

"So, things must be getting pretty serious with Mickey if you're planning a weekend trip to go see him?"

"Subtle, Debs," Ian said with a laugh, knowing she was only there to fish for information. He appreciated the free home-cooked meal, so he wasn't going to complain.

"Excuse me for being curious," Debbie said. "It's not every day your brother gets back together with his first love after being apart for seven years." She sighed dreamily. "It's romantic."

Ian didn't know how romantic sext messages and masturbatory Skype calls were, but he kept those small bits of information from her. She didn't need to know about any of that.

"We're not officially back together."

"But you wanna be?"

"Yeah," he said with no hesitation. "I wanna be."

She watched him feed Mia for a minute before saying, "You really like him, don't you?"

"Yeah, Debs," Ian said, pausing to scoop mashed yams from the baby's chin. "I really like him."

Truth was, he more than liked Mickey, but he didn't tell his sister that. He didn't know how serious things were with Mickey, and he didn't want to bring his family into anything until he was sure what they were.

Sure, they texted, and sexted, and did dirty things over video calls, but they had yet to discuss anything substantial. They didn't have a label for whatever it was they had going on between them. Hell, he didn't even know if Mickey was sleeping with other people or not.

Ian wasn't sleeping with anyone else—he didn't even want to sleep with anyone else—but he also knew he didn't have a right to get upset with Mickey if he was sleeping with someone else. It would hurt like hell, but Mickey didn't owe him anything. They weren't boyfriends, even though he wanted to be.

He was hoping his trip that weekend would clear some things up. He needed his trip that weekend to clear things up.

He didn't know how serious things could get between them, though, when they lived a seven-hour car ride away from each other. The thought that they'd have to ultimately end things because of something as stupid as distance caused Ian's heart to ache. He didn't want to get that far with Mickey only for it to end over geography, of all things.

Ian's phone buzzed, breaking him from his reverie. He fished it out of his pocket to read the usual lunch-time text from Mickey. He grinned as he read the sexy message and went about typing back a filthy response despite his niece and sister being three feet away.

He missed the grin on Debbie's face as she took over feeding Mia.

* * *

The next day, Ian stood in the middle of Pittsburgh International Airport and glanced around, feeling his anxiety closing in on him as he waited.

He was nervous as fuck to see Micke again. He didn't know why, because it was Mickey, and he'd never really felt nervous around him before. He thought maybe he was just nervous about the outcome of the trip. Nervous that maybe Mickey was regretting his decision to pursue things with him. Nervous that Mickey wasn't feeling it as much as he was; that seeing him in person again would cause Mickey to realize he didn't want him.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, silently berating and willing himself to calm the fuck down.

Mickey had promised to meet him at the terminal, and they were going to catch an Uber back to his place. He'd said that he refused to drive in Pittsburgh and took an Uber almost everywhere. According to Mickey, the Pittsburgh roads were an absolute pot-holed clusterfuck, and all the drivers were rude-ass pricks.

He grinned when he thought about his quasi-boyfriend's disdain for his current hometown and instantly felt better. He stood straighter and looked through the crowd, suddenly eager to see him. Eager to get his hands on him. He hadn't realized until that moment how much he'd missed him.

After a few minutes of glancing around and getting jostled by the crowd, he finally spotted Mickey casually leaning against a column several feet away, holding up a sign that said: firecrotch

Ian shook his head and laughed as he made his way through the throng of people towards him. Once he reached him, he hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and looked Mickey over. Gone were the khaki pants and polo shirts he'd been wearing daily back at the cabin. He wore a purple flannel with cut-off sleeves and baggy jeans. He looked like the Mickey he remembered. He resisted the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him stupid.

"Real nice, Mick," he said. "Coulda did without the sign."

"What?" Mickey asked, grinning. "Made it myself."

Ian eyed the sloppily written sign that was complete with a crude drawing of a penis. "Yeah, I can tell you spent hours on it."

"Thought you'd like it."

Ian grinned as he gave Mickey an appreciative once-over, once again fighting the urge to touch him. "Oh, I do like it."

Mickey clicked his tongue and finally lowered the sign as a group of teenage girls walked past giggling. Apparently, they were delighted by his artistic talent.

"You, uh… you ready to get outta here?" Mickey asked, rubbing his lower lip as his eyes fell to Ian's mouth. To Ian, it looked as if he was fighting the urge to lean in and kiss him, too. Instead, he refrained and said, "This place is makin' me claustrophobic."

"Yeah, let's get outta here."

"Don't expect a fuckin' tour of the city or anything," Mickey quipped as he turned to head towards the exit.

Ian grinned as he followed him through the crowd. He fought the urge to hold Mickey's hand while they walked. He knew that was a step Mickey wasn't ready to take with him yet. He vaguely wondered if they'd ever get there. It always seemed to take them longer to reach milestones in their relationship than it did most other people.

In the Uber ride back to Mickey's place, though, he was surprised when Mickey reached over and casually placed his hand high on his thigh as Ian told him about the obnoxious asshole he'd been stuck sitting next to on the plane.

For the entire forty-minute Uber ride, Mickey didn't remove his hand.

Ian didn't even try to fight back his smile.

* * *

After Mickey showed Ian around his small ranch-style house, which was nicer and tidier than Ian had imagined it would be, they sat down at his small kitchen table to eat the Indian food he had ordered from his favorite place down the street.

After a slightly awkward silence, Mickey asked, "So, what d'you think of the place?"

"Nice digs," Ian muttered through his mouthful of Jasmine rice.

"Thanks." Mickey chuckled. "I'm glad you approve."

After swallowing, Ian said, "You probably never thought you'd own your own house, huh?"

"Nah," Mickey said. "Got it for cheap, actually, from some dude my aunt used to bang back in high school. Paid about sixty grand for it." He motioned towards the ceiling with the beer in his hand. "Had a few leaks in the roof that I had a buddy of mine help fix, some problems with the central air when I first moved in, but other than that, it's good. It's mine." He shrugged as he brought his beer up to his mouth to take a swig.

Ian smiled before dropping his eyes back to his carton of food. It still made him sad to think Mickey had a whole life outside of him and Chicago. A whole life that he still knew very little about.

"How's the baby-meat been doin'?"

"She's been good," Ian said, perking up a little at the mention of his niece. "Gettin' big. She has two whole teeth now with a third comin' in."

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey said, grinning. "I'm gonna have to start callin' her chompers."

"Mm-hm. You know, it's weird," Ian said as he picked up his beer to take a swig. "I've only been away from her for half a day so far, but I already miss the shit outta her."

Mickey nodded as he stabbed at his rice with chopsticks. "Makes sense. You love the kid."

"Yeah, I really do," Ian said as he sat back and took another sip of his beer. "She's a part of Lip. She's… mine. At first, I thought that gaining custody of her was about the worst thing in the world. I kinda can't imagine my life without the little shit anymore."

He looked up and locked eyes with Mickey. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Mickey that he couldn't imagine his life without him anymore, either, but he refrained, knowing they were supposed to be easing into things. He didn't think a declaration of love or whatever would go over too well.

"Enough with the niece shit, man. She's your daughter," Mickey said, shrugging. "Time to accept that."

"Yeah," Ian said, smiling gently when he realized he was right. "She's my daughter."

Mickey nudged Ian's foot with his own and looked at him from under his lashes with a small smile before returning to his food.

Ian smiled before going back to his rice.

Under the table, their feet remained touching.

* * *

The rest of that first day, Mickey and Ian lounged around and played video games, stuffed their faces with tacos for dinner, and caught a cheesy b-grade horror movie on Netflix before Mickey decided to call it a night, claiming they had a big day ahead of them. Since he claimed he rarely had guests over, his second bedroom had been turned into a storage room, and Ian was relegated to the couch. He set Ian up with a blanket and pillow before retiring to his bedroom.

Even though Ian had been secretly waiting for Mickey to invite him into his bedroom—had been really fucking hoping for it—he hadn't been all that surprised when it didn't happen.

He had spent an entire day with Mickey, and they hadn't even kissed. They'd barely made any bodily contact aside from Mickey's hand on his thigh in the Uber and the game of footsies they played during lunch. Mickey hadn't been kidding about wanting to take things slow. Ian was okay with that. He'd wait for Mickey to sort through whatever reservations he was having.

He tossed and turned at first, his mind laser-focused on the fact that Mickey was sleeping half-naked in a queen-sized bed in the next room. The things he could and would do to a half-naked Mickey in a queen-sized bed…

He placed a throw pillow over his face and groaned in frustration. He fell asleep almost two hours later after doing everything he could to stop himself from touching his dick. He didn't think Mickey would appreciate him secretly jerking off in his house or getting jizz on his couch.

"So, how are things between you and Mason?" Ian asked Mickey the next morning as he probed his bowl of cereal with his spoon, his bleary eyes downcast. He yawned wide before adding, "Things are probably awkward between you two after the way things went down, huh?"

"Uh," Mickey began, scratching his nose with his thumbnail as he stood at the counter, waiting for his coffee to brew. "I don't know how he's been. I haven't talked to the guy in a few weeks."

"Really?" Ian asked around his mouthful of cereal, trying not to sound too eager for details. He dropped his eyes to admire Mickey's perfect ass in his flannel pajama bottoms as he waited for him to answer. "Why not?"

"I don't think you wanna know."

"Oh, I do wanna know."

Mickey grabbed a coffee mug from a cupboard before shrugging. "He told me he had real feelings for me a few days after everything went down. Told me he wanted to try a real relationship." He rubbed the corner of his mouth before adding, "He asked me if I felt the same way."

Ian lowered his spoon and swallowed thickly, trying not to let on that he knew all about Mason's true feelings. He knew Mickey wouldn't appreciate the fact that he'd kept that from him. "Oh, yeah?" he asked in his best nonchalant voice. "What did you say to that?"

"I told him I care about him as a friend," Mickey said, locking eyes with Ian meaningfully. "Only as a friend. Told him me and you were thinkin' about maybe givin' it another shot." He paused for a beat before continuing, "He told me I'd probably end up gettin' hurt again."

Ian sighed and opened his mouth to respond but was cut off.

"Anyway, I told him to mind his fuckin' business, that he doesn't know shit," Mickey said, shrugging as he turned to pour his coffee. "He got pretty upset. I haven't heard from the guy since."

Ian swallowed thickly, hating Mason at that moment for putting doubts in Mickey's head, but a small part of him couldn't blame the guy for wanting to do and say anything to be with Mickey.

"I won't hurt you," he said after a beat.

"Fuck off. I know," Mickey said. Despite his bravado, he still dropped his gaze to the floor. It hurt Ian, knowing that even though Mickey claimed he did, that he didn't trust him fully. Not yet.

"No, Mickey," Ian said, shaking his head. "I need you to know it, okay? I won't hurt you again. I won't leave you again. I need you to know that… that if you decide you really want this, that you really want me, that I'm all in this time."

Mickey thumbed his nose and nodded. "You want some coffee?" He turned towards the coffee pot to pour another cup, obviously intent on changing the subject.

Ian dropped his spoon, stood up, and made his way over to Mickey. He grabbed him by the hips, forcing him to turn around. He caged him against the counter. He searched his eyes before saying, "You believe me, though, right?"

Mickey's brows shot up. "Gettin' tough on me, Gallagher?"

"Answer the question, Milkovich."

"Yeah," Mickey answered with a shrug, dropping his eyes to Ian's chest. "I believe you, alright? Fuck."

Ian could tell he was lying. He sighed and leaned in to press his forehead against his. "I won't hurt you again," he murmured. "You have to know that. I'm all in."

"Yeah." Mickey nodded minutely. "Okay."

"I really wanna fuckin' kiss you," Ian breathed before he could think it through.

"We're takin' things slow, remember?" Mickey muttered into the space separating them. "Fuck. I wanna take it so much further right now, but we said we'd—"

"I know," Ian whispered, nodding against his forehead, his heart racing in his chest. All he wanted to do was kiss Mickey stupid while walking him back into his bedroom. He wanted to fuck him slow and deep, wanted to use his body to show him just how serious he was about him, but he knew they weren't there yet. "There's no rush. I can wait. You're worth it."

If Mickey wanted to take things slow, that's what he was going to do, even though everything in him was screaming for him to jump headfirst into things.

Just as he moved to head back to the table before his cereal could get too soggy, he was stopped when Mickey pressed a firm hand to his chest.

Mickey leaned in and surprised Ian by kissing him hard on the mouth, his hand sliding up Ian's bare chest to wrap around the nape of his neck. In the next instant, he broke away from the kiss, turned around, muttered 'fuck' under his breath, and went about making his toast.

A slow smile spread across Ian's face as he tried to get his heart rate under control. The kiss was far from passionate, barely lasted three seconds, but it caused him to stand frozen in the middle of the kitchen with a dumb grin on his face, regardless.

"Eat your fuckin' cereal."

* * *

After taking Ian to the Andy Warhol Museum (one of Mickey's favorite places around town) and catching a Pirates' game at PNC Park (where they completely ignored the baseball game in favor of acting like teenagers again by making fun of people, heckling players, and shoving their faces with messy hot dogs), Mickey decided he'd had enough of the public for one day, and they made their way back to Mickey's place.

"You know, I was thinking," Ian started as they walked down the sidewalk of Mickey's street, their shoulders bumping playfully every few steps.

"Wait, you can do that?" Mickey teased.

"Haha, asshole."

Mickey laughed and nudged Ian with his elbow. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinkin' that today was kinda like our first real date."

Mickey side-eyed him, his thumb rubbing the corner of his mouth. "Fuck you is what it was," he retorted before eventually returning Ian's soft, flirty smile.

As they started talking about something else entirely, Mickey made a point to brush the back of his hand against Ian's every so often, letting him know that he wasn't entirely off-base.

* * *

That night, they shared a frozen pizza for dinner and each downed a couple of beers as they watched a few episodes of MasterChef that Mickey had saved on his DVR, both taking the time to critique each home cook's culinary decisions, completely ignoring the fact that they'd just consumed processed food and cheap beer.

Ian didn't admit it out loud, but he'd laughed more in the past two days than he had in the last two years. He loved being around Mickey. He hated the fact that he had to go home the next morning. He wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. His good mood deteriorated the longer the night went on.

When it got late, and Mickey could barely keep his eyes open anymore, he said goodnight and stood to head to his room.

Ian watched him over the back of the couch until the door to Mickey's bedroom was shut. He tried not to let his disappointment get to him, but it was getting hard. In every sense of the word.

He relaxed on the couch and stared up at the ceiling through the darkness, knowing he wouldn't get any sleep anytime soon. He kept replaying their day out together on a loop in his head, wanting to mentally file away every single detail. He didn't know when they'd get the chance to have a day like that again.

A couple of hours later, Mickey made his way through the living room en route to the kitchen, intent on grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. He paused in his trek to glance towards the couch, surprised to find Ian awake and watching him.

"Hey," he said, his voice raspy from sleep.

"Hey."

Mickey scratched his temple as he contemplated keeping the conversation going, knowing he was playing with fire. Talking to Ian while he was half-naked and looking at him like that wouldn't end well.

"What are you doin' up?" he asked. "It's three in the morning, man. You got a plane to catch tomorrow."

"I can't sleep."

"Yeah, me neither," Mickey said. "I was just up gettin' something to drink. Fuckin' parched."

Ian visibly swallowed and nodded, obviously having nothing to say to that.

Mickey allowed his eyes to travel down Ian's prone form, admiring the way the dark blue sheet pooled around his waist and the way his shirt rode up a little, exposing a small strip of pale, toned skin. He had one arm bent behind his head, his other arm draped over his torso. Fuck, he looked good. It was getting harder to resist the temptation to touch him.

They were supposed to be taking things slow, but suddenly, neither one of them could remember exactly why that was.

Mickey forced himself to look away and continued to make his way to the kitchen, intent on getting his water and going back to his room, knowing that was the smart thing to do even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. Before he could get too far, he halted, cursed under his breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He was fucking sick of fighting his urges and keeping his hands to himself.

He was tired of being scared to let himself go completely. He knew once he gave his all to Ian, there was no turning back. That's why he had been hesitating. He was scared of losing himself completely in someone. He was sick of hesitating.

The truth of the matter was, he couldn't deny it anymore. He didn't even want to deny it anymore.

Ian was it.

Finally set on his decision, he turned and headed for the couch.

Ian inhaled sharply and sat up when he realized Mickey was heading towards him. "Mick," he whispered right before Mickey leaned in and kissed him hard. He reclined back against the couch, giving Mickey ample room to straddle his lap.

Mickey pulled away from the hungry, tongue-tangling kiss a minute later, latching onto Ian's bottom lip roughly before he did so. He gasped for air and stared down at Ian with intense eyes. "Fuck," he breathed, smoothing his hands up Ian's firm chest and linking his fingers behind his neck. "Fuck you."

Ian swallowed hard and stared up at him through the darkness, barely making out his expression. "Mick?"

"Fuck you," Mickey breathed again before leaning in and kissing him again, his hands sliding up the back of Ian's neck and digging into his hair as he deepened the desperate kiss.

Ian groaned and smoothed his hands down Mickey's back before grabbing his ass, pulling and holding him against him, feeling Mickey hard against his stomach. When Mickey moaned his approval, Ian slipped his hands under the band of his sweats and latched onto the bare, soft skin of his ass.

"Shit, Mickey," he moaned against his mouth when Mickey began slowly rutting against his stomach. After a few minutes of dry-humping, he bucked up and forced Mickey to sit back against the couch. He slung his leg over Mickey's lap and straddled him, wanting to take control. He wanted Mickey to know how bad he wanted it. How bad he wanted him.

"Hey, let's slow this down a little," he breathed, cupping Mickey's face in his hands and pressing his thumbs against Mickey's jaw to tilt his head back so they were staring into each other's eyes. "You sure you want this? We don't have to do this. Not tonight. I can wait. I waited seven years for you, I can wait long—"

"I'm fuckin' sick of waitin'," Mickey murmured, his eyes falling to Ian's pink lips. He smoothed his hands up Ian's thighs and placed them firmly on his hips before saying, "Don't wanna wait anymore."

"I want this too. Trust me, I fuckin' want this, but I don't want you to regret anything we do here tonight," Ian breathed, his thumbs smoothing over Mickey's cheeks. "Fuck, Mickey. Do you have any fuckin' idea how important you are to me? If we did something tonight, and you regretted it, I don't think I could—"

"I wouldn't fuckin' regret you, Ian," Mickey interjected. "Don't you know that by now? I've never fuckin' regretted anything I've done with you. I've only regretted the way things ended between us. Regretted lettin' you walk the fuck away. I'm not lettin' you go again. I want this. Want you. All of you."

"You want me?" Ian murmured.

"Fuck yes."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, want your fuckin' cock," Mickey breathed, removing his hand from Ian's hip to cup him through his sweats. "Missed this cock."

Ian leaned in, kissing him hard. The only sounds in Mickey's dark living room were the sounds of their heaving breathing, their lips smacking, and the soft moans bubbling from both their throats as they finally gave in to their urges.

When he broke the passionate kiss a minute later, Mickey grinned at the sight before him. Ian's hair was sticking up in every direction, his eyes were wide and searching, and his mouth was swollen from their kisses.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Mickey murmured, his smile fading. "Fuckin' nothing. C'mere…"

Ian leaned in for another eager kiss before Mickey motioned for him to sit back again.

Mickey smoothed his hands up Ian's sides, along his ribs, and then under his arms, motioning for Ian to lift them. Once Ian's arms were in the air, Mickey dropped his hands to the bottom of Ian's shirt and, while their eyes were locked intensely, he slowly dragged the garment up and pulled it over Ian's head. With Ian's shirt bunched in his hand, he pressed it to the small of Ian's back while his other hand slid up Ian's chest and snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him in for another tongue-tangling kiss.

Ian moaned inside Mickey's mouth and shuddered from the intensity of the situation.

Mickey tossed Ian's shirt aside and rounded his hands over his ass, causing Ian to press closer against him. "Fuck. Ian. You're so fuckin' sexy, man."

"Yeah?" Ian breathed. "You got me so fuckin' hard."

Mickey moaned filthily and watched as Ian continued languidly sliding against him. He reached up and tugged Ian's bottom lip down with his thumb. "Want that fuckin' mouth on me."

Ian pulled away in the next instant and slinked down to the floor between Mickey's spread legs. He locked eyes with Mickey before leaning in and nosing the front of Mickey's pajama bottoms, feeling his dick getting harder beneath the thin fabric. He opened his eyes and stared up at Mickey as he teased and mouthed the head of his cock through the material.

Mickey dug his right hand in Ian's hair and rested his head back against the couch as Ian continued to nose at his dick and balls through his pants. "Fuck, that's good."

"Wanna taste you," Ian muttered as he pulled back to stare up at Mickey with dark eyes. He cupped the length of Mickey's cock through the damp material of his sweats, eager to take it out. "Forget how you taste."

Mickey swallowed hard and nodded his consent. He lifted his hips when Ian hooked his fingers under the band of his sweats. In one fluid motion, his pants and boxers were stripped off and tossed next to Ian's discarded shirt. He sank back down into the couch cushion and groaned when Ian's perfect mouth immediately engulfed him. Ian had always been amazing at giving head. That hadn't changed.

"Fuck," he breathed, running his fingers through Ian's hair before smoothing his hand down over his cheek and gripping him under the chin, feeling his dick there every time Ian bobbed his head.

Ian pulled back after a few minutes of eager bobbing with a moan, a bridge of saliva connecting from his bottom lip to the tip of Mickey's dick. "You taste so fuckin' good. I could suck your dick all day."

"Forgot how good you are at that," Mickey breathed as he traced his fingertips under Ian's jaw, lightly forcing his head back further to get a good look at his flushed face and swollen lips.

They shared a small, intimate smile before Ian eagerly sucked him back down and hummed around his cock.

Mickey's head lolled against the back of the couch, and he gasped as Ian deepthroated him with gusto and rolled his tight balls between his fingers. "Fuck, that fuckin' mouth, man. Not gonna last much longer if you keep doin' that."

Ian pulled back with a gasp, his eyes intense as he stared up at Mickey. "Wanna make you come. Want it all."

"Yeah?" Mickey breathed.

Ian nodded, his mouth wet and eyes intense.

"Sit back, open the fuck up," Mickey growled as he stood up to stand in front of him.

Ian sat back on his haunches and opened his mouth filthily as Mickey vigorously stroked his cock above him.

"Fuck. Such a pretty fuckin' face," Mickey gasped. He slapped the slick tip of his dick against Ian's outstretched tongue. He then slipped his dick inside Ian's eager mouth and gripped his hair with both hands, his thumbs resting against his temples. "Wanna come all over that face."

Ian moaned, grabbed Mickey's ass, and pulled him in deeper, urging him to fuck his mouth. He reached down inside his sweats and tugged at his own dick, knowing he could easily get off on the sounds Mickey was making and the words he was saying alone.

"Fuck, Ian," Mickey cried out as he snapped his hips, his tight balls slapping against Ian's chin as he chased his release. "You're gonna make me fuckin' come…"

Ian Immediately pulled back when those words registered in his hazy mind, wrapping his index finger and thumb around the base of Mickey's dick to stave off his orgasm. "Not yet," he breathed. "Wait…"

"The fuck, Ian?"

"I don't want you to come like this," Ian said, standing up on shaky legs. With his eyes locked on Mickey's, he reached down and pushed his own sweats and boxers down. "I wanna fuck you. Need to fuck you. I need to be in that fuckin' ass again…"

Mickey groaned, gripped him by the back of the neck, and pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. Their tongues tangled, and they moaned inside each other's mouth as they clumsily finished getting undressed. They stumbled over their own feet and laughed through the passionate kiss before reluctantly pulling apart.

"Gotta get the stuff," Mickey breathed as he took a few steps back towards his room, his eyes glued on Ian's erect cock. "Fuck…"

"Hurry up," Ian said as he sank down on the couch, his legs spread, and his cock at full salute. He gave it a few lazy tugs, loving the way Mickey watched him.

Mickey turned and hurried to his bedroom, grabbing the sleeve of condoms and lube from his bedside table in record time.

When he returned to the living room, he stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. Ian's head was rested back against the couch, his dark eyes focused on Mickey as he slowly rubbed the palm of his hand over the tip of his dick. After a minute, he snapped out of his captivation and finished walking to the couch and climbed onto Ian's lap.

Ian gripped Mickey's hips and rested his head against the back of the couch, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he whispered. "You okay?"

"Fuckin' perfect," Mickey mumbled before leaning in and kissing him slowly and thoroughly. They made out for a bit and eventually built their way back up to where they left off, with Mickey rutting against Ian's stomach, and Ian roughly gripping and spreading his ass. They groaned inside each other's mouths, both eager to take the next step.

Ian slid his middle finger between Mickey's cheeks and rubbed the tip around his rim. He moaned as he dipped his finger shallowly inside, feeling how tight Mickey was. "Shit, Mickey. You're so fuckin' tight."

Mickey whimpered into the kiss when Ian started lazily fingering him. He dropped his right hand between them to stroke Ian's dick. When he pulled away from the intense kiss to nuzzle the spot beneath Ian's ear, he froze when Ian spoke.

"Are you sleepin' with anyone else?"

"The fuck?" Mickey pulled back to look at him, a frown on his face. "You serious? You wanna ask me that shit now? With your finger two knuckles deep in my ass?"

Ian swallowed visibly, hoping he didn't ruin the mood. "Just wonderin' if you've been fuckin' anyone else." He paused, his eyes searching Mickey's confused ones. "It's okay if you are. I mean, fuck… it's not okay, but I won't get mad. I don't have the right to get mad. You don't owe me anything. I just wanna know."

Brows raised, Mickey asked, "You done?"

Ian nodded.

"You're a fuckin' idiot, you know that?" Mickey muttered before leaning in to kiss him again. When he pulled back a few beats later, he pressed his forehead against Ian's. "No. I'm not fuckin' anyone else. I haven't even wanted to fuck anyone else." He then backed away a few inches and frowned. "Why? Are you fuckin' someone else?"

Ian smiled and pecked him on the lips before answering, "No."

"Good."

"Good."

"Glad we got that cleared up," Mickey quipped.

"Yep."

"You gonna fuck me now?"

"Hell yeah, I'm gonna fuck you now," Ian breathed before leaning in to end the conversation with a kiss.

Mickey pressed a condom against Ian's chest as they kissed and went to work blindly squirting lube into his hand and warming it between his fingers. As they continued sloppily kissing, he reached behind himself and scissored his hole with two fingers, getting himself ready for the cock he'd missed so much.

"Come on," Ian breathed into Mickey's mouth once the condom was on. "Need you. Can't wait anymore."

"I'm fuckin' gettin' there," Mickey groused. "Gimme a minute."

Finally, after making out to the point where their mouths were swollen and their dicks were leaking, Mickey positioned Ian's cock against his ready hole, and he slowly rocked himself down until Ian bottomed out.

"Fuck," he gasped as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Ian's neck, taking a moment to get reacquainted with Ian's cock. "Forgot how good you fuckin' feel," he muttered against Ian's ear. "It's been way too fuckin' long."

Ian smoothed his hands up and down Mickey's back as he trembled from the intensity of being inside him again. He knew he wasn't going to last long. Truth was, he was surprised he hadn't come already from the kissing.

Mickey finally began to move, slowly riding him into the couch. He latched his mouth onto Ian's and kissed him thoroughly as he rode him, darting his tongue in and out of his mouth in time with their steady thrusts.

Before long, Ian was a blubbering, panting mess beneath him. He pulled away from the intense kiss to toss his head back. He held onto Mickey's hips and groaned while Mickey sucked at his throat. "Shit, Mickey. I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

"Fuck," Mickey breathed as he placed one hand on the back of the couch next to Ian's head, and his other hand on Ian's knee behind him. He watched Ian's face as he rode him steadily, feeling his orgasm building with every hit to his prostate. He reached down and tugged at his bobbing cock. When Ian opened his lust-filled eyes to meet his, Mickey smiled through the intensity of it all. He leaned in and kissed Ian sweetly on the mouth, and then he laughed breathlessly when Ian gasped and cried out, trembling as he came.

Ian sagged beneath him a minute later, completely depleted as Mickey continued to ride him.

"Gimme a minute," Mickey rasped as he tossed his head back and kept his vigorous pace. He could feel his orgasm right on the brink. "Almost there. Fuck!" He tugged his cock before freezing and gasping as he came all over Ian's chest and abs in quick, hot spurts. When he finished, he slumped against Ian, their sweaty upper bodies melding together.

"Holy shit," Ian said after a bit with a breathy laugh.

"Holy shit is fuckin' right," Mickey quipped. He then pressed his lips against Ian's temple. "I'm glad you're here," he muttered after a beat of silence.

Ian smiled and wrapped his arms around Mickey before adorably digging his face in his chest. "I'm really glad I'm here, too."

* * *

The next day, after going two hardcore rounds in bed and Ian getting his dick edged and sucked in the shower, Mickey and Ian reluctantly headed for the airport, their weekend together over too fast for either of their likings. Even though they'd had sex, and kissed, and hung out, and reconnected in every sense of the word, they had yet to define what they officially were to each other.

As they walked through the busy airport terminal towards Ian's boarding gate, they remained quiet; both lost in their thoughts. Both not wanting to say goodbye just yet. Both not wanting to say goodbye at all.

After they sat down to wait for Ian's flight to be called, Mickey finally broke the tense silence. "The fuck are we gonna do here, Ian?"

"Do?"

Mickey shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't do that. Don't play dumb. You know what the fuck I'm talkin' about."

Ian pulled a hand down his face and sighed. He'd been agonizing for weeks over wanting to define what they were to each other, and now that Mickey wanted to put a label on things, he didn't know what to do. "I don't know," he finally said.

"The fuck you mean you don't know?" Mickey snapped, his eyebrows furrowed. "What was this weekend about, then? I thought we were supposed to figure our shit out?"

"I know."

"So what don't you fuckin' know?"

"We… we have to look at the bigger picture, Mickey."

"Bigger picture?" Mickey repeated, frowning. "The fuck's that mean?"

"We live in two different states," Ian started after hesitating.

He didn't know why he was saying what he was saying. He only knew that it was something they both had to consider. They had to think with their heads, not their hearts. Their hearts had only gotten them into trouble in the past.

"So we'll do long distance for a little while," Mickey answered. "People do it all the fuckin' time. We can keep doin' that Skype shit, talk on the phone every day. You can fly out to visit me every once in a while."

Ian frowned. "That'd be enough for you?"

"Not really, but I'll take what I can fuckin' get."

Ian scrubbed at his eyes, Mickey's words like a punch to the chest. They shouldn't have to take what they can get. It should be easy. It was never fucking easy for them. It probably never would be.

"Ian?" Mickey started when Ian remained silent. "Fuckin' talk to me, man. I need to know what's goin' on in your head."

"I have baggage," Ian muttered after another pause. "Baggage you shouldn't have to deal with."

"This again? Really?" Mickey snapped, bordering on angry. "I don't give a shit about your baggage, Gallagher!" He lowered his voice when a woman passing by threw a curious look their way. He sighed and rubbed his mouth before saying, "I give a shit about you."

"I am my baggage!" Ian exclaimed. "This weekend was nice. It was really nice, but maybe we're just fuckin' kidding ourselves here."

"Ian," Mickey interjected

"I can't put you through the shit I go through, Mickey. I can't put you through my breakdowns and constant fuck-ups. I'm unpredictable as fuck. I may seem like I have my shit together right now, but I fuckin' don't. And I can't put you through raising a kid who isn't yours. I won't force you to take care of a kid you never wanted. I won't."

"Ian…"

"I'm not your fuckin' dad!"

Ian's words hung in the awkward silence.

Mickey exhaled unsteadily before finally saying, "That's not even the same thing. You fuckin' know it's not the same—"

"We can't—we can't sugarcoat this," Ian cut in, his tone trembling. "We have to be realistic."

"Who's sugarcoating anything?" Mickey shot back. "I'm not an idiot, Ian. I know shit's gonna be hard for us, but it'll be worth it."

"You're happy here," Ian said, his voice unsteady. "You're happy and free, and you're safe. You have a good life here. You were doing fine without me. I can't put you through my bullshit. I won't fuck up your life."

"I was doin' fine, huh?"

"Yeah! You were."

When Mickey opened his mouth to argue, Ian interjected, "I walked away from you seven years ago, and I should have to fuckin' live with that. As much as I wanna fall into this with you wholeheartedly, I have to be smart about it. I have to do what's best for you. Things may seem good now, but they might not stay that way."

Mickey stood up and paced a little. He crossed his arms over his chest and took in a few deeps breaths before saying, "So, what the fuck are you gonna do, Gallagher? Huh? You gonna walk the fuck away from me again? Is that what this is?"

"I think I have to," Ian said after a beat as he slowly stood up, his voice quivering. "I can't be selfish here. Not with you."

Mickey stared back at him, his tongue slowly poking around the inside of his cheek. He finally uncrossed his arms and strode over to him. "Don't fuckin' do this," he beseeched, clutching the front of Ian's shirt and pulling him in closer so their noses were almost touching. He no longer cared who was watching, or who heard what. "You hear me? Don't."

Ian closed his eyes and let out an unsteady breath. He tapped his forehead against Mickey's and whispered, "Don't, what?"

"Don't walk away from me again," Mickey muttered. He sniffed and pulled back to look Ian in the eye. "We let all the bullshit get the best of us before. We let everything and everyone tear us apart before, I'm not doin' it again. I'm not lettin' your bipolar shit or your insecurities get in our fuckin' way. I want this, Ian. I want us. I even want Mia. I know what I fuckin' want. I've always known. What I don't want is you leavin' my life again. I had to do it once before, don't wanna fuckin' do it again."

"Mickey…"

"Look," Mickey cut in, rubbing his mouth with a shaky hand before saying, "Enough with the bullshit. You know where the fuck I stand. Are you my guy or not, Gallagher?"

Ian looked up, Mickey's words reminding him of a conversation they'd had in the lake a month before. After a long, contemplative pause, he grinned, slowly nodded, and said, "Yeah, Mick." He cupped Mickey's face, feeling him tremble beneath his hands. "I'm your guy."

Mickey let out a long exhale and leaned in until their foreheads touched. "Fuck…"

Ian knew at that moment, without a doubt, that he'd never be able to walk away from Mickey again. Even if it all turned out to be a huge mistake, he wasn't walking away again. At least not without a fight.

For the first time in public, Mickey leaned in and kissed him, right in the middle of a busy Pittsburgh International Airport.

The kiss was hungry and full of tongue. People gawked and whispered to each other in passing, but Mickey didn't seem to give a single fuck as he laughed into the kiss and angled his head to deepen it.

As Ian kissed him back thoroughly with everything he had in him, sealing the deal, he couldn't help but think how fucking worth the wait it all was.

How worth it Mickey was.

* * *

A few months later, the long-distance thing was getting to Ian, just as he knew it would.

In fact, it had been getting to him for weeks, but he hadn't brought it up until then, not wanting to stress Mickey out while everything was still so fragile and new. He was to the point where he couldn't hold back any longer. He'd already discussed it at length with his therapist; it was time he brought it up to his boyfriend.

"I hate this."

Mickey had picked him up from the airport two hours before, and they'd wasted no time shedding their clothes and using their bodies to show each other how much they missed each other in the two weeks since they'd last seen each other.

Mickey swallowed thickly, the fingers that had been softly raking through Ian's hair stilling. "Hate what?"

"Commuting every other weekend," Ian muttered after a pause as he lightly feathered his fingertips over Mickey's bare chest, pausing now and then to pinch his nipples, which he'd found out recently Mickey liked.

Ever since they'd started the physical aspect of their new relationship, they were discovering new things the other enjoyed having done to their bodies. They hadn't had the luxury of time, privacy, and space to explore each other's bodies in the past. They were definitely making up for that any chance they got.

"We already figured it wasn't goin' to be easy," Mickey muttered, biting his lower lip to fight back a moan as Ian's calloused thumb slid over his nipple. He was already hard and leaking under the sheets, ready for round two.

"I know," Ian said, dropping his hand to Mickey's erection to stroke him over the soft cotton. "It's harder than I thought it would be, though. I'm struggling to keep my meds on track, I'm tired all the time, it's hard on Mia going back and forth, not to mention my savings are dwindling fast."

"I can't go back to Chicago. I can't go back to that neighborhood, not with my dad still breathin' and walkin' the fuckin' streets," Mickey muttered against Ian's forehead, his fingers resuming through Ian's hair as his legs fell open a little wider, giving Ian more room to stroke him. "I'm happy where I'm at. If we're doing this, if we're gonna be together, you're gonna have to accept that. It's just the way it is. Thought you knew that."

"I do know," Ian said, lifting his head from Mickey's chest to look up at him, his hand pausing on his cock. "I don't wanna do the back-and-forth shit anymore. Only being able to touch you one or two weekends a month. I can't do it anymore. I won't do it anymore."

"What are you sayin'?" Mickey asked, his tone wavering on the last word. He'd already been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was always waiting for Ian to decide that this wasn't what he wanted. That working on a relationship with Mickey wasn't what he wanted.

"I'm saying… I wanna be here with you," Ian clarified after a beat. He swallowed thickly and searched Mickey's eyes before adding, "I can be an EMT anywhere. I can raise Mia anywhere. Pittsburgh, Chicago, wherever. I don't fuckin' care. As long as I'm with you." He leaned down to tap his forehead against Mickey's. "I don't wanna be without you ever again."

"You sayin' you wanna live here?" Mickey asked, his heart racing in his chest as he tried his best to appear cool, calm, and collected. "With me? In shitty-ass Pittsburgh?"

"Yeah," Ian said, knowing deep down Mickey loved his new hometown more than he would ever let on. "I'm sayin' I wanna live here. With you. In shitty-ass Pittsburgh. You got a problem with that?"

Mickey let out a breath and kissed him sweetly on the mouth before saying, "You're a fuckin' sap, you know that?"

"Pretty sure you've said that before." Ian smiled. "So, does that mean yes?"

"Yeah, Ian," Mickey said after a beat, cupping Ian's face in his hands and rolling over so he was on top of him. "It means fuckin' yes." His eyes swept over Ian's sweet face, and he smiled before leaning down to kiss him. Right before their lips met, he muttered, "'Course I want you here with me."

After kissing thoroughly, he rode Ian into the mattress, cementing the deal.

* * *

A few weeks later, they were arguing about something inane, again.

Ian knew Mickey was cranky from working long hours at the office and knew not to take his shitty mood personally, but his clipped tone of voice still stung. Even though they'd been bickering a lot more than usual, he knew they were both still getting used to living together. They were still getting used to each other's bad habits, odd quirks, and weird moods.

"We haven't seen each other in almost eighteen hours." Ian sighed, knowing he shouldn't engage but unable to stop himself. "You're seriously starting a fight with me because I didn't rinse off my plate?"

"Yeah. I'm seriously startin' a fight with you because you didn't rinse off your plate," Mickey snapped as he filled up a bowl with cereal, opting for an easy dinner since he stayed late at work. "It's the second time this week, man. Clean up after yourself."

Ian rubbed a hand down his face before asking, "What should I do here? Tell me what to do. You want me to leave the room until you're in a better mood?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want," Mickey muttered as he poured his milk. "I don't give a shit."

Ian swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. He bit his lower lip to stop it from trembling, wanting to rectify the situation but not knowing how to go about doing that.

In the past, when they were kids, he would have cornered and pushed and hounded Mickey until things were resolved. He didn't want to do that. He knew it was best to walk away from the situation before making it worse.

Just as he was about to head to their bedroom to give Mickey the time and space to calm down (even though that was the last thing he wanted to do), the sudden odd look on his boyfriend's face stopped him in his tracks.

"Holy shit," Mickey muttered, his gaze fixed over Ian's shoulder. "Ian."

Ian frowned and turned around to see what had caused such an odd reaction from his boyfriend. He found Mia standing on her own, holding onto their threadbare couch for support. His heart jumped to his throat at the sight. "Mick. Holy crap. She's standin' up on her own!"

"Fuck yeah, she is," Mickey quipped, pride clear in his voice.

Ian took a step towards the little girl and knelt down a few feet away from her. "Mia, look at you! You're standing! You're such a big girl!"

Mia watched him, a grin on her chubby face.

"Come here," Ian said, holding out his arms. "Come here. Come see me!"

Mickey knelt down next to him, his bowl of Lucky Charms forgotten on the kitchen counter. "C'mere," he cooed, joining his boyfriend in trying to coax the little girl into walking to them.

Ian looked over at him and grinned when their eyes met.

Mickey shook his head a little when he noticed Ian's eyes were wet around the edges. "Such a fuckin' sap," he muttered affectionately.

Ian laughed and looked back at Mia in time to see her take her very first step towards them. In the next instant, she fell back on her butt with a huff. "Holy shit, Mickey!" he exclaimed. "She walked!"

"Fuck yeah, she did!" Mickey bellowed before turning to Ian and engulfing his face in his hands. He leaned in and kissed him hard. He pulled back and pecked his lips a few times. "I'm sorry for bein' a dick," he muttered between kisses. "I had a bad day at work. Shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"I don't care," Ian said, a grin plastered on his face as Mickey playfully smacked kisses on both of his cheeks. "Mia fuckin' walked, Mickey!"

Mickey laughed and leaned in for one more lingering kiss before they both crawled towards Mia to celebrate with tickles, their stupid argument long forgotten.

* * *

A few weeks later, Ian and Mickey were enjoying a rare morning off together. After working two straight weeks of 7A to 7P, Ian was intent on spending his entire day off holed up in the house with his two favorite people.

"So, what d'you wanna do today?" Mickey asked as he went about fixing Mia her breakfast. "We haven't had a day off together in a while. Better make it good."

Ian walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. He propped his chin on Mickey's shoulder and watched him work. "First, we're gonna spend the entire day in our pajamas eating junk food and watching Peppa Pig with Mia."

"Peppa Pig, huh? You mean that cartoon that looks like a cock?"

Ian laughed and shook his head at his boyfriend's crudeness. "Yeah, that's the one."

"Sounds fun," Mickey retorted with a snort. "That all you got?"

"Mm-mm," Ian hummed, peppering soft, lingering kisses on Mickey's neck as he watched him stir the oatmeal. "Then I'm having Rhonda stop over to take the baby for a few hours so we can have some alone time. Finally." He smiled when he heard Mickey's breath hitch. He lowered his voice and pressed his lips against Mickey's ear. "Then I'm gonna fuck you good and hard after I eat you out. You're probably gonna have trouble sittin' at work tomorrow, just a heads up."

Mickey stopped stirring the oatmeal and pressed his ass against Ian's crotch. "Oh, yeah? That a promise, tough guy?"

"Yeah, that's a fuckin' promise," Ian muttered against Mickey's neck. He playfully nipped Mickey's pulse point and reached down to palm Mickey's half-hard dick through his sweats.

Mickey dropped the spoon he'd been holding on the counter and allowed his head to loll back against Ian's shoulder. He moaned, already putty in Ian's hands. He reached back and tugged on Ian's hair, arching against him.

Ian smiled and gripped Mickey's dick harder and began jerking him off through his pants as he buried his face in the crook of his neck. He slowly rocked against Mickey's ass, letting him know how hard he was for him. "Want you."

"Fuck…"

"I can tell you want me, too," Ian murmured. "You're already so hard for me."

"Always hard for you," Mickey muttered, licking his lips and reaching down to place his hand over Ian's that was still teasing him.

Ian sucked Mickey's neck and slipped his hand down the front of his pants, coming in contact with his dick.

"Fuck," Mickey breathed when Ian's fingers wrapped around him. "Feels good."

Ian's breathing became ragged against his neck as he continued to stroke him.

"Alright, alright," Mickey warned after a few seconds of getting lost in each other. "Not in front of the kid, asshole. Don't wanna scar her for life. Save that shit for later."

"Yeah, you're right." Ian removed his hand from Mickey's pants and reluctantly stepped away. He groaned his displeasure for effect, letting Mickey know how bad he wanted him, and how much he hated having to stop.

Mickey shot him a flirty look over his shoulder, his eyes dipping a little to take in Ian's naked torso before smirking. "Sure you don't wanna call the sitter now?"

Ian laughed as he walked to the fridge to chug orange juice straight from the carton. "Nah, we can wait. Wouldn't mind gettin' you all worked up throughout the day. Maybe I can even get you to beg me for it later."

"Beg you, my ass," Mickey huffed in mock distaste as he grabbed the bowl of warm oatmeal and walked towards a waiting Mia. "We both know nine times outta ten you're the one beggin' for it." He laughed at the smirk on Ian's face as he placed the bowl of oatmeal in front of the baby. "You ready for your breakfast?" he asked Mia in his version of a baby voice, which wasn't much different from his usual voice, just slightly softer around the edges.

Mia squealed and kicked her feet in reply.

Ian watched the whole interaction, his heart swelling in his chest.

Mickey pushed up his sleeves, sat backward on a chair, and got comfortable. He grabbed the small pink spoon and scooped up some oatmeal. Even though she was getting the hang of holding her spoon on her own, she still needed help being fed. "This morning, we have slightly warmed oats seasoned to perfection with a sprinkle of cinnamon."

Ian rested his butt against the counter, crossed his arms, and grinned. Mickey's uppity accent needed some work, but he was getting better.

Mia took the first bite of oatmeal and hummed happily.

Mickey grinned. "Yeah, that's good shit, huh?"

Ian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mickey."

"What?" Mickey asked, glancing at him over his shoulder with a frown.

"No swearin' in front of the kid."

Mickey rolled his eyes before turning back to the baby.

Before either of them could stop her, Mia flung a fistful of mush at Mickey, hitting him square in the chin.

Ian instantly doubled over with laughter, clutching at his sides as he did so. He had tears rolling down his cheeks when he straightened up moments later.

Mickey was glaring at him as he stood up from his chair. "Yeah, laugh it the fuck up, Chuckles. Glad you're havin' fun."

"I'm sorry, it's just… your face," Ian gasped through his laughter.

"Fuck you," Mickey grumbled as he walked over to the sink. "Your face, bitch."

"Hey, what did I just say about swearin' in front of the kid?" Ian playfully berated, still laughing.

Mickey glanced back at Mia as she happily chewed on her fist, her bright, blue eyes taking in the two men bickering before her. "She's barely one, man. She has no idea what the fu—what the freak I'm saying."

Ian watched as Mickey grumpily wiped the oatmeal from his chin. He took in Mickey's furrowed brows and the way he was grumbling under his breath. His heart was practically bursting in his chest from it all. At that moment, he realized he was the happiest and the most content he'd ever been in his entire life.

He knew the reason why that was.

"I love you."

Mickey paused what he was doing and looked up, his eyebrows softening as he stared back at Ian.

Ian grinned at the look on his face and walked over to him. He pushed him back against the sink by the hips and caged him in. His eyes searched Mickey's before he leaned in and tapped his forehead to his.

"The fuck you say?"

"I said—even though you look ridiculous right now with oatmeal all over your face, and even though you're grumpy as hell ninety percent of the time—that I love you." He pulled back to look him directly in the eyes. He swallowed visibly, suddenly serious. "Always loved you."

Mickey surged forward and kissed him hard, causing Ian to grunt in surprise and stumble back against the opposite counter.

Ian engulfed Mickey's face in his large hands and kissed him back with everything he had in him.

Mia watched the two men kissing passionately from her high chair, letting out cheerful baby babble as she did so.

Apparently, she approved.

* * *

About a month later, Ian was walking down the sidewalk of his and Mickey's quiet tree-lined street, deciding to walk to their usual grocery store that was five blocks away to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather. He was pushing Mia in a stroller and was scrolling through his iPod to choose a song when he looked up and saw him.

Mason didn't see him at first as he was walking towards him, his eyes glued to his own phone.

Ian stopped walking and glanced around, trying to spot a bush or tree to hide behind. Just as he was contemplating jaywalking and crossing the street, he looked back to find that he'd been spotted.

Mason had stopped walking and was looking back at Ian with a frown. He heaved a sigh and looked behind him before glancing back at Ian. Finally, he moved to head towards him.

"Hey," Ian said once Mason reached him, deciding to keep it amicable.

"Hey," Mason said, giving Ian a quick once-over. "You're here. In Pittsburgh."

"Yeah, I'm here in Pittsburgh," Ian answered, leaving it at that.

"I was actually on my way to see Mickey."

"Yeah?" Ian asked, trying to keep his jealousy at bay as an unfounded fear that Mickey knew Mason was coming to see him crept in. Had they been in contact? Had Mickey been lying to him the whole time? "Does he know you're coming to see him?"

"No," Mason said. "He hasn't been returning my calls or texts."

"So, you thought you'd drop by to see him unannounced?" Ian asked, trying to keep the bite from his tone.

Mason chuckled and glanced down the street before looking back at him. "Look, I'm not trying to cause you any trouble. I'm only trying to get my friend back. I miss my friend."

"Your friend?"

"Yeah, my friend."

Ian nodded and turned his head to focus his attention on something down the street. A part of him hated the fact that Mickey and Mason might stay friends, and he knew he had no say in the matter. He was trying to be mature about things—was trying to be an adult in a healthy relationship—but he couldn't help how he felt.

"So, I take it since you're here that you and Mickey worked things out?"

"Well, we're living together now, so…" That time, the venom seeped into Ian's tone.

Mason nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Oh."

"I told him I loved him last month for the first time," Ian added, wanting Mason to know it all.

"Good for you," Mason said after a beat. "That's good."

Ian swallowed thickly and looked at the ground. He was done with the conversation.

"Has he said it back?"

Ian's brows furrowed, the question catching him off guard. "The hell's it to you?"

Mason held up his hands to placate him. "It's only a question. I'm not trying to put doubts in your head." The small smirk on his lips told Ian otherwise. "It's just that… when I talked to him shortly after the whole wedding fiasco, he seemed a little unsure about things. With you."

Ian swallowed hard and gripped the handles of Mia's stroller so tightly his knuckles turned white. After a ten count in his head, he said, "Mickey's not home. He's at work, so… you're wasting your time."

"Okay," Mason said as he started to walk backward. "Thanks for the heads up. I guess I'll have to catch him some other time. When he's less preoccupied." He smirked before turning and walking back the way he came.

Ian watched after him with a frown, no longer in the mood to walk and enjoy the weather.

* * *

Later that night after putting Mia to bed, Mickey and Ian showered together like they did most nights. Mickey, being too exhausted from work, had rested back against the wall of the shower and enjoyed Ian's skillful, eager mouth on his cock until he came down his throat in record time. He promised to take care of Ian in the morning when he was more alert and well-rested.

As they relaxed in bed, Mickey laying in Ian's arms with his cheek pressed against his bare chest, Ian couldn't help secretly agonizing over his run-in with Mason earlier that day. The doubts were starting to set in the more he mulled over their conversation.

It all came down to the fact that Mickey hadn't officially told him he loved him yet. Did Mickey love him? Was Mickey as serious about him as he was about Mickey? Would Mickey want to be friends with Mason again? Could Ian handle that, knowing that Mason probably wasn't above trying to get inside Mickey's pants?

"What's goin' on with you, huh?" Mickey asked, already sounding on the verge of sleep. "You seem far away tonight."

Ian stared up at the ceiling, contemplating whether or not he wanted to tell Mickey his thoughts, doubts, and fears. He knew it would only stress him out. He knew his boyfriend was exhausted from work and would most likely rather sleep than argue about his ex-friend.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss against Mickey's forehead and ultimately decided to spare his boyfriend the unneeded stress. He'd have to deal with it on his own.

He'd gotten pretty good at dealing with things on his own over the years.

"Ian?"

"I'm good," Ian muttered after a beat against Mickey's skin. "Go to sleep."

* * *

Three weeks later, Mickey stood in the doorway to his and Ian's bedroom. The curtains were closed, blocking out most of the sunlight trying to pour in. Mia was squirming in his arms, but he didn't pay her much mind as he eyed the lump in the middle of their bed.

"Hey," he said hesitantly around the lump in his throat. He was relieved when he got a muffled answer back. It was better than the nothing he'd received the entire day before. "You feelin' any better?"

"Not really," Ian grumbled, his face lost in the blankets.

Mickey tentatively walked into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, being careful not to jostle his boyfriend too much. "I just got back from takin' Mia to her check-up. Everything's good."

Ian muttered something unintelligible.

"She got a few shots, barely even cried."

"Thank you," Ian mumbled. "For takin' her."

Mickey clicked his tongue. "You don't have to thank me for that, Ian. I wanted to do it."

Mia cried out and struggled to get out of his arms.

Mickey placed her down on the bed and watched with a heavy heart as she crawled her way towards Ian. It was obvious that she missed him as much as he did. "Can I get you anything? Want something to eat? I can make you some eggs. We got soup?"

"Not hungry."

"You need to eat something, Ian," he chastised. "You haven't eaten anything in three days."

"Later."

Mickey sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted, having gotten no sleep in the past few days. He'd been too busy being worried sick about Ian. "Fine, but your ass is eatin' something later. No bullshit."

Ian grumbled an incoherent response and pulled the blankets over his head.

Mickey rubbed his mouth as he contemplated his next words, wanting to be sensitive about the situation. "How long does it take for the new cocktail of meds to kick in?"

They'd gone to the clinic the evening before to get his meds adjusted after a few days of noticing the warning signs.

"Dunno," Ian uttered after a pause. "Could be a couple of days. A week, maybe. Hard to say."

Mickey blinked his eyes, forcing back his tears. He knew, being with Ian, that he'd eventually have to deal with the bipolar stuff; he'd never realized how hard it would be when the time came. He missed the fuck out of Ian's laugh, his smile, his annoying jokes. He'd give anything to get into a stupid argument with him because at least then Ian would talk to him. At least he'd look at him.

"Dada," Mia said, lightly hitting Ian's hip with her fist, apparently wanting his attention as much as Mickey did. She'd begun saying a few words here and there a couple of weeks prior; dada being the first. Ian had been over the fucking moon about it. Mickey smiled sadly while thinking about it.

"Dada needs sleep," Ian muttered.

Mia whined when Mickey picked her up. "Come on, kiddo," he said, intent on leaving the room to give Ian some space and to feed Mia her lunch. "I'll check on you later," he said to his boyfriend. "If you need anything, let me know. I'll be right in the living room."

"'Kay."

Mickey leaned over and kissed Ian's shoulder through the bedsheet. He then hesitated, pressed his face against the same shoulder, and whispered, "I love you."

When he climbed off the bed, he gave Ian's prone figure one last glance before reluctantly leaving the room.

* * *

A few hours later, Mickey looked up from playing a game on his phone to find Ian standing in the doorway of their bedroom. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every different direction, and he had a red mark along his cheek from being pressed against his pillow for too long. The sight tugged at Mickey's heartstrings, and he bit his lower lip to fight back a smile.

"Hey, you're up."

"Yeah," Ian said, making no move to walk further into the room. His eyes scanned the living room as he scratched his bicep. "Where's the baby?"

"She's takin' a nap before dinner," Mickey said, watching him. "I think those shots earlier wore her out."

Ian nodded, his eyes downcast.

"I was thinkin' about catchin' up on Breaking Bad soon. We still need to finish season three. Don't wanna watch it without ya." He fully knew that he was walking on eggshells, afraid he'd say or do something wrong that would have Ian heading back to bed. He decided he'd do and say anything to get Ian to stay in the living room with him. Anything to keep him out of that bed. "I'm also thinkin' about ordering food from that Mexican place down the street you like. You hungry yet?"

Without answering, Ian ambled to the couch and climbed into Mickey's lap. He loosely looped his arms around his neck and melted into him with a shaky sigh.

Mickey exhaled through his nose and held him, one arm around Ian's waist, his other hand gripping the back of his neck. He buried his face in his shoulder. "Fuck, Ian…"

Ian tightened his arms around Mickey's neck.

"You alright?" Mickey asked after a while. Before he realized what was happening, he felt Ian slightly trembling against him. "Hey." He motioned for Ian to sit back a little and looked at him. He searched Ian's face, absolutely hating the fact that he was close to tears. "The fuck's wrong, huh? Talk to me."

Ian leaned in to press his forehead against Mickey's. "I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want you to ever have to see me like this. Not this soon. It's too fuckin' soon…"

"Ian, stop—"

"I didn't want you to have to deal with any of this shit," Ian interjected. "I tried to… tried to act like I was fine for the past couple weeks, but I wasn't fine."

"You don't have to act with me, Ian," Mickey said, reaching up to caress Ian's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "When I said I wanted all of you, I meant it. I'm not gonna lie, this shit is scary as fuck. But there's no fuckin' way I'm goin' anywhere, so I need to get used to it. And you need to let me in. You need to tell me these things. You can't hide shit from me. If you're feelin' sick, you fuckin' tell me."

Ian swallowed visibly and nodded.

"We're a team, remember?" Mickey said, his tone stern. His eyebrows softened as he stared back at him. "You don't gotta do that shit by yourself anymore. You hear me?"

Ian nodded again, his shoulders slumping in relief.

"C'mere," Mickey muttered, pulling Ian back into his arms.

Ian went easily and sighed heavily. After a beat, he muttered into Mickey's shirt, "I ran into Mason a few weeks ago. One day when I was walkin' to the store."

"What?" Mickey asked, pulling back to look Ian in the eyes. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me that?"

"I didn't wanna stress you out," Ian said. "We were fighting a lot. You were workin' crazy hours at work…"

Mickey clicked his tongue. "You shoulda told me." He leaned forward to kiss Ian's bare shoulder before asking, "What did you talk about?"

"Nothin' really," Ian said. "I told him we were living together. Told him I loved you. He said some stuff that, I dunno… stuff that put doubts in my head. About us."

Mickey exhaled and rubbed a hand down his face. "Fuck him. He tried callin' me a bunch of times. Dude can't take a hint. The fuck did he say to you?"

"He asked me if you loved me back," Ian said, his eyes focused on Mickey's chest. "I didn't know how to answer that."

"You didn't know how to answer that?" Mickey frowned. "Ian, you know—"

"I heard what you said earlier, though," Ian interrupted, lifting his eyes to meet Mickey's. "Heard you say you love me."

"Yeah?" Mickey asked, swallowing thickly as his eyes searched Ian's. "I meant every fuckin' word. Shoulda told you sooner."

Ian nodded.

"Thought you knew."

Ian visibly relaxed and let out a slow exhale. "I love you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So fuckin' much," Ian whispered before sliding his hand up Mickey's chest, along his neck, and then cupping his cheek to turn his face so he could kiss him for the first time in days.

Mickey exhaled through his nose as he kissed him back, relief washing through him. They didn't rush the slow kiss, and it didn't turn into anything more that night, but it left both men feeling safe and content and loved.

* * *

"So, enough about me!" Mandy said to Ian over the phone a few weeks later. "How is everything going with you?"

"Well, I'm still gettin' used to living out here," he said. "It's nothing like Chicago. I miss home a lot, but I have Mia and Mickey out here, so I can't complain. Debs and Franny are flying out next week to visit for a few days. I'm excited about that. We're gonna hit up the Children's Museum."

"Are you good?" Mandy asked. "That's all that matters."

"Yeah," Ian answered wholeheartedly with a grin as he stared down at Mia who was beaming up at him from her spot perched safely on his knee. "I'm good."

He realized at that moment that he no longer had to lie to his best friend about how good he was. He no longer had to sugarcoat anything. He currently had everything he'd ever wanted in life.

"I'm glad things are workin' out for you," Mandy said. "You deserve it."

Ian could hear the smile in her voice.

"I'm glad you finally found your someone."

"Mickey was always my someone," Ian said after a beat. "It just took us a little while to get there, that's all."

"Yeah, seven years!"

"He was worth the wait."

Mandy sniffed and cleared her throat. "Okay, let's talk about something else," she said, her tone wavering. "This is gettin' way too fuckin' schmaltzy for me."

Ian laughed and allowed her to change the subject to something inane.

A part of him suspected that Mandy might have planned everything all along. She was a little too happy about the fact that her best friend and big brother were together and in love. Maybe she'd known all along that Mickey and Mason hadn't been meant to get married. Maybe she'd asked him along as her plus one for a very specific reason.

He decided not to call her out on any of it.

He liked to believe that fate had brought him and Mickey back together.

* * *

A few weeks later, Mickey asked him a question.

"Did you ever think back in the day this is where we'd be?"

Ian pulled him closer and kissed the top of his head as his eyes remained focused on the television.

It had been a long day for them both. Ian had worked a fifteen-hour shift at the station, and Mickey had put in long hours at the office. After picking Mia up from the babysitter's, they'd barely had time to sit down for a quick dinner, and were taking time to unwind on the couch with a few of their DVRed shows. It was all normal and domestic as fuck, but it was fucking perfect.

He took a minute to mull over his boyfriend's question.

Did he ever think he and Mickey could lead a normal life? Did he ever think they could be together wholeheartedly; that they'd be safe and wouldn't have to look over their shoulders every minute of every day? Did he ever think he'd get to go home to the man he loved at the end of the day and cuddle on the couch while watching sitcom reruns with their daughter asleep in their arms?

Before, it had always felt as if something was missing in his life. There had always been something keeping him from being completely happy. Mickey had been that something. He knew that now. He might have even known it back then.

"Never imagined we'd be here," he finally muttered into Mickey's hair, "but I wouldn't change it for anything."

"No?"

"No," Ian confirmed. "I'm happy."

"Happy, huh?"

"Yeah." Ian rested his head back against the couch and smiled adoringly at him. "Really fuckin' happy."

"Come on," Mickey said, breaking the intense eye contact and standing up from the couch with a sleeping Mia cradled against his chest. "Let's put the baby to bed so we can go fool around, see if I can make you a little happier."

Ian turned off the television and grinned as he stood up to follow him.

Heading to bed with the love of his life at the end of a stressful day?

There was nothing else in the world he wanted more.


End file.
